


It's Always Raining (when we meet)

by plainlystars



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Johnny's Jr., SnowMan (band)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6445639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plainlystars/pseuds/plainlystars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of rainy days in parallel lives where Miyadate and Watanabe met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Always Raining (when we meet)

**Author's Note:**

> This was heavily inspired by a Chinese song where there's a line that goes '那陪我淋的雨' which directly translates into 'the one who accompanied me in the rain'. Also, DateNabe have known each other for 20 years (hence the word count)! I'm always thankful to my self-appointed beta, my sis, and then I who encouraged me throughout and J for one of the plots.
> 
> I also created a twitter account to tweet about updates over here: https://twitter.com/plainlystars

It had been raining for hours; fat droplets pelted down onto the granite ground, watering the trees and flowers excessively. In a sheltered pavilion, Miyadate sat, shielded from the downpour. He stared blankly into space, ignoring the fact that his cup of tea and the various sweets had gone cold before fixating his gaze back onto the boy kneeling in the middle of the garden.

Miyadate would like to do nothing more than storm over and bring the other into the shelter. But a punishment was a punishment. Still, wasn't it already enough? The other had been kneeling for hours, even before it started raining and even before Miyadate had come.

 _‘He was being rude to the elders.’_ Or so Miyadate had been told.

Sure enough, Watanabe wasn't the most polite boy in the whole household but he definitely wasn't rude enough to receive such a harsh punishment - kneel until twenty incense sticks were completely burnt out.

When Miyadate had arrived in the garden to find a spot to relax and eat desserts, he had found Watanabe kneeling in front of the study hall. It was also then that he heard the first clap of the thunder and immediately rushed to the nearest pavilion, shocking the servants who were trailing behind him but followed suit anyway.

Watanabe would fall sick kneeling in the rain like that, so Miyadate had called out to him, offering him a space in the pavilion so they could eat and chat until the rain stopped. But Watanabe hadn't said anything, didn't even look at him and continued training his eyes on the wooden plank of the study hall.

A light drizzle started out and that was also when Miyadate had been informed that it was his father, Lord Miyadate, who had met out this punishment, stunning Miyadate for a few moments. Why would his father do such a thing? Especially to Watanabe of all people! The Miyadates and Watanabes were a tight knit group; their family histories tied to each other from way back. So Miyadate had actually known Watanabe since they were children but grew apart as they grew up.

That was nothing to be sad about; it was expected. But the chance for them to interact again had come when the children of every Lords and Ladies were called upon to the palace to study. They had met and they had talked and they had gotten along very well. Even Miyadate’s father had seemed pleased to see them interacting so jovially. So why would he do such a thing to the Watanabes’ only son and Miyadate’s best friend?

As soon as the rain got heavier, Miyadate stood up and walked out of the pavilion, causing the servants to panic before they ran after him, holding cloths above his head to shelter him. Miyadate had not paid much heed to them as he walked over to Watanabe’s kneeling form.

The sky was too dark for Miyadate’s shadow to be cast onto the ground but Watanabe noticed Miyadate’s presence quickly (it was hard not to seeing that it was more like a group of people and not Miyadate only) and glanced at him briefly before looking away, making Miyadate frown. Then Miyadate stretched out his hand, a rice cake held between his thumb and index finger.

“You must be hungry,” Miyadate said, leaving his hand outstretched even though Watanabe wouldn't so much as look at him. “You should eat something.”

All Miyadate heard in response was a soft murmur. “Come again?”

“I said go away,” Watanabe hissed through gritted teeth.

That was all it took for Miyadate to back away and stalked angrily back to the pavilion. Indignance rose in his chest as he stared at the rice cake, throwing it back into one of the boxes which contained the desserts. Who was he to reject Miyadate’s kind intention?

“Fine!” Miyadate said aloud in a raised voice in hopes that Watanabe could hear him. “Be that way! Kneel until your punishment is up!”

Once, Miyadate’s friend, Abe Ryohei, had told him that to win the heart of the person you like, you had to be mean to him first. That didn't seem to be the case as Watanabe turned his head towards Miyadate and shot him a deathly glare.

How many hours had passed, Miyadate wasn't sure, but the sky was clearly getting darker as night approached.

From where Miyadate was seated, he had a clear view of Watanabe kneeling, surrounded by a various assortment of flowers which only served to enhance his beauty even though he looked nothing like a nobleman's son and more like a drenched rat at the moment. Miyadate was still utterly enraptured. Flowers suited Watanabe.

Belatedly, he noted that Watanabe was shivering and also observed that the other was wearing at most only two layers of clothings. The outer layer of silk sure did not help in keeping him warm. Although the rain wasn't as heavy as before, droplets continued dropping steadily from the sky, dampening Watanabe’s clothes further and Miyadate’s heart ached a little.

“Don't follow me,” Miyadate ordered as he stood up, almost sending his servants into a flurry again. “I mean it.” His tone was resolute, convincing his servants to stay rooted and do nothing as they watched their young master walk into the rain.

“Shota,” Miyadate called out. Again, he was ignored but he didn't take it to heart this time. 

Instead, all he did was drop to his knees next to Watanabe, shocking the other as he whipped his head to look at Miyadate as if the former were dumb.

“What are you doing?” Watanabe asked, sounding more like he was reprimanding Miyadate than asking a question. “You will anger your father.”

Miyadate smiled at that. Watanabe was worried about him.

“It's okay,” Miyadate replied simply as he took Watanabe’s hand into his own, noting how icy it was.

Watanabe’s small smile didn't go unnoticed as Miyadate started rubbing warmth back into his frozen fingers.

 

 

“Excuse me,” Miyadate said, causing Watanabe to look up from where he was squatting in front of one of the cellars. “I need to get something.”

With an exaggerated show of reluctance, Watanabe finally stood up and took a step back, gesturing towards the now unblocked path with his palm faced up, acting polite. But Miyadate hadn't wanted to walk past. He quirked a brow at Watanabe before occupying the space where the other had been squatting at, feet implanted to the ground, showing that there was where he wanted to stand.

Watanabe squinted his eyes when he realised that Miyadate wanted something his back was facing and was about to move out of the way when Miyadate pressed in closer, restricting his movements. Smirking, Miyadate reached out his hand for one of the wine bottles diagonally above Watanabe’s head, making the latter groan outwardly.

“What is this?” Watanabe asked, unimpressed with their close proximity. “Bullying? Sexual harassment?”

“Says the bully,” Miyadate replied casually as he slowly traced his fingers over the bottle caps, taking his time despite knowing where it was. “And I'm not exactly touching you.” Immediately, Watanabe stopped fidgeting, fixing a glare onto Miyadate who now had a pleased smile on his face. “Also, I did say excuse me.”

“This is the narrowest cellar,” Watanabe complained, feeling indignant because this was Miyadate’s fault. “You could have said where exactly.”

Yes, Watanabe was right, as always. But Miyadate didn't care. Then he looked down at Watanabe, their faces merely inches apart.

“I don't know why you're so angry,” Miyadate sighed, his hand dropping to Watanabe’s arm, drawing circles into the thin fabric of Watanabe’s white blouse.

Subconsciously, Watanabe fluttered his eyes shut as he breathed in Miyadate’s sweet, alluring and intoxicating cologne. He was distracted. “Quit wearing such strong smelling stuff to work.”

It wasn't Watanabe’s business whatever Miyadate decided to wear. “And smell like fruits and floral and vanilla like you? Something milder?”

This was getting irritating. Making a frustrated noise, Watanabe pushed Miyadate off gently, ensuring that the latter’s back wouldn't collide with the row of wine bottles and gave him a grim smile.

“I feel like sending you to toilet duty.” It was the conclusion Watanabe arrived at.

“You can't do that. It's not on the roster.” Technically, Watanabe could do that, being the manager of the bar. “That’s abuse of authority.”

“And so?”

“And so, nothing.”

Oh, Miyadate could be so grating at times. Watanabe gave him a patronising smile and stared at him, contemplating for a while. But he decided to leave it at that. No use riling himself up. He was about to leave when he realised that there was something off about Miyadate’s dressing. Something was glaringly missing.

“Where's your vest?” Watanabe asked. The uniform was standard for all the bartenders.

As the manager, Watanabe was required to make sure that the place was running smoothly, with every worker working hard and keeping to the rules. Not wearing the proper attire was breaching one of the rules. But that wasn't Watanabe’s concern.

His concern was how distracting Miyadate looked in a plain white dress shirt, clad in black slacks with a perfectly tied tie around his neck.

“A newbie spilt drinks on me,” Miyadate replied, a faint hint of mockery in his voice as he knew how he looked like now affected Watanabe.

“Okay. Whatever.” Watanabe ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “Do you have an extra vest?” Miyadate nodded. “It’s in the locker right? Just go get it and then get back to entertaining all your ladies.”

Miyadate’s eyes widened considerably. “Is this why you're angry? Because I'm talking to our customers? Shota, I thought you were better than that.” He was using that annoyingly sweet tone whenever he was trying to coax Watanabe. The older man didn't want to be coddled at the moment. “I can't possibly ignore a customer when she's talking to me.”

“Customers.” Watanabe made sure to stress the ‘s’.

“What are you even getting jealous about?” Miyadate sounded baffled. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“And you're presumptuous to think I would get jealous because of you.” Watanabe brought his hand up to his face before rubbing his temple slowly as if nursing an oncoming headache. “You always smell like a girl at the end of the night.”

Smiling a little, Miyadate closed the small gap between them and held Watanabe’s hand. “You don't have to worry.” Then he brought Watanabe’s hand to his lips and kissed the other's open palm.

Unable to stop himself, Watanabe couldn't resist but shake away Miyadate’s hand to press his nose. “Stop it. We're at work.” When Miyadate started breathing through his mouth, Watanabe let go. “Go back to work.” He enunciated each word clearly and stared at Miyadate until the latter raised his hands in defeat and then got the bottle he was looking for before walking out.

 

There were only a few customers that day and now Watanabe knew why. When he stepped out of the cellar, the first thing he noticed was how chilly the air was. Then he realised that it was pouring outside upon hearing the muffled gushing noise from the basement. He hadn't checked the weather forecast beforehand.

He groaned, thinking about the cold he'd have to endure in the small office as he checked the records of the place. A sound approaching from behind made Watanabe spin around and he saw Miyadate wearing a vest now and holding a maroon jacket in his hand. Watanabe stared at the jacket.

Wordlessly, Miyadate threw his hoodie at Watanabe, the clothing landing over the latter’s face, must to his chagrin. He pulled it off and pouted at Miyadate but the younger man wasn't there anymore; he was walking over to the bar to resume his duties as he should.

Watanabe sighed and slowly brought the hoodie up, pressing his face into the soft fabric and inhaling Miyadate’s scent. It smelt just like Miyadate. It was heady.

 

 

Miyadate was a happy man. At the age of thirty-five, he had his own house - a modest apartment he could call home, his own car and it was all thanks to his stable job of being a stockbroker.

People could make it big at a young age if you knew the right cards to play coupled with luck on your side. It hadn't sounded easy to Miyadate many years back but now he knew it was possible and he was a walking testament. Still, on some days - rainy days like today - he found it unbelievable.

When he was in his Mercedes, driving to a kindergarten to pick his five-year-old daughter up.

The only thing people would deem missing in his life would be a lover. But that wasn't someone he needed. He had his daughter and felt perfectly contented with life. 

Nearing the kindergarten, he slowed down before parking his vehicle at the side of the road, making sure that it wasn't an obstruction. He looked out and found curious stares sent his way by confused housewives. They probably hadn't expected a black Mercedes to be stationed there.

Miyadate had done this before - pick his daughter up from all her other schools. But he also remembered the trouble and annoyance he faced from gossipy mothers.

_“Such a young father! What happened to her mother!”_

While the quieter ones sent him disapproving glares and stirred their children out of the way as soon as possible whenever he was around. Then again, he was always around.

Deciding to stall the inevitable meeting no further, Miyadate killed the engine, took a deep breath and then he was pushing open his car door. All he did was put one leg out and the unnecessary buzzing murmurs started.

Taking another deep breath, he plastered a smile onto his face, then upon remembering the rain, grabbed an umbrella and got out. As much as possible, he tried looking friendly, wiping away his usual stern expression before approaching the crowd.

It was still early but he liked being early. He didn’t ever want his daughter to wait for him alone, especially on a rainy day like this, sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees as she wondered whether or not her father was going to come. Miyadate remembered feeling that way once or twice in his life. Maybe more, but it wasn’t a pleasant memory so he may have erased it from his mind already.

He was early and that meant introductions had to be done and conversations had to be made. Miyadate was a polite man.

 

The teacher was late in releasing the children. Very late. Miyadate couldn’t help but start tapping his feet in rhythm with the rain pattering against the ground as he constantly glanced at his watch. Where was his daughter.

“Stop worrying, Miyadate-san! They usually come out late because lessons are so fun that the children don’t want to leave.”

“Oh really?” Miyadate asked, unable to contain the bitterness in his voice.

“It must be Shota’s lessons! The children love him!”

Shota.

Miyadate frowned the same time the kindergarten doors swung open and little children came running out, ducking into the sheltered path to find their parents. Instantly, Miyadate ignored his surroundings, tasking himself to find his daughter.

As soon as he spotted his daughter, he quickly walked over, only to realise that his daughter was holding the hand of a man.

“You must be Sora-chan’s father!” The stranger exclaimed, still holding on to Miyadate’s daughter’s hand.

“Yes,” Miyadate responded curtly while staring at their linked hands, wanting them to break apart now that he was here.

“I’m Watanabe Shota, nice to meet you,” said the man as he stretched out his unoccupied hand which Miyadate shook graciously. “I’m Sora-chan’s teacher.” And then he smiled, the two corners of his lip pulling up taut as his eyes formed crescents.

Miyadate could see why the children loved him.

 

The twenty-four hour supermarket was empty save the cashiers on overnight duty. It was nice and quiet, just what Miyadate needed as he shopped for groceries without bumping into nosy housewives. He walked past the snacks aisle, finding another man standing there and ignored him before he did a double-take just seconds later upon realising who the man was.

Watanabe Shota.

While the other had combed back, gelled hair back at the kindergarten, making him look older and more professional, he looked infinitely younger now with his fringe covering his forehead, wearing a grey hoodie and a white shirt inside and some track pants while holding a packet of gummies.

“Hi,” Miyadate couldn’t stop himself from saying. He had no idea why he was initiating a conversation.

Watanabe looked up, surprise on his face before he broke out into a large grin.

 

Miyadate found it baffling that he was sitting on a bench with Watanabe next to him while he drank beer and the other drank coke afterwards. They had been talking for a few hours, into the early morning. He also didn’t know how he ended up telling Watanabe how often he moved and mentioning that Sora wasn’t his daughter.

“Is this a sob story?” Watanabe inquired.

“No,” Miyadate replied with a soft chuckle as he let his head fall forward. “I had a girlfriend who was pregnant with her ex’s child whom I thought was mine. Soon enough, I found out the kid wasn’t mine and then we broke up but not because of that. She contacted me a few months after she gave birth, asking me if I wanted the kid because it was hard for her to find a new lover. It’s not sad. I like kids.”

“Bitch,” Watanabe commented.

Miyadate narrowed his eyes at Watanabe. “Never. Never ever teach my daughter that word.”

“Maybe when she’s older,” Watanabe mused with a cheeky smile.

“You’re so sure you’ll still be in my life then.”

“I just have a feeling you’re staying here for good this time.”

And maybe, Miyadate was.

 

 

Night was falling.

All Watanabe’s life, he had only known what life was like in the opera house. He didn't question why he was locked there. Though technically, he wasn't locked up; he could walk around freely in the deserted but well-kept opera house.

From his room, he had an aeroview of the whole garden which separated the opera house and a palace. He stared longingly at the grand building, yearning to be there instead of being cooped up in this old place.

One day. Maybe one day, Watanabe would be allowed into the palace.

 

The feeling of Watanabe’s mattress sinking woke him up from a dreamless sleep. Stirring, he blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the darkness as he tried guessing who it was.

Although no guessing had to be done since he was only allowed to interact with one person - the prince of the palace, the owner of the opera house, Miyadate Ryota. A person who had half his face behind a white mask.

“Sing for me, Shota,” Miyadate said quietly, sitting at the edge of Watanabe’s bed.

“But I’m always singing for you.” Sleep-groggy, Watanabe was fighting to keep his eyes open and trying his best not to slur his words though his lisp was still ever present. “It's so late. Why aren't you sleeping? What’s wrong?” He wanted to reach out to Miyadate’s hand.

“Sing for me when you love me and truly mean it.” Miyadate sighed, reaching over to Watanabe’s hand and bringing it up to the masked side of his face. “Then I'll take my mask off for you.”

Upon hearing those words, Watanabe’s eyes shot wide open. “Why not just - ” Watanabe was attempting to pull it off but Miyadate tightened his hold before pushing his hand away harshly. “Let me remove it now…” his voice grew softer.

“Shota,” Miyadate begun, his voice as calm and gentle as ever, making Watanabe relax. “What is it that you hope to see underneath? What is it that you think you'll see underneath?”

No response came. The silence was deafening, chilling Miyadate’s bones as he gripped the ends of his jacket and stared at Watanabe intently, anticipating an answer he would never receive.

“A beauty - ” Watanabe stopped short when Miyadate glared at him in derision.

“Do not insult me.”

It was warning enough for Watanabe to stop but he didn't care. He was never the most obedient person. “A beauty underneath. That’s what I hope to see.”

Seething, Miyadate pushed himself off the bed, refusing to face Watanabe or be close to the other. His voice grew louder but he still wasn't shouting. “And it is something you won't see.” Then he turned to face Watanabe. Mockingly, he said, “you're beautiful Shota, as much as you're blind,” before looking away again.

“And you're stupid,” Watanabe spat, unconcealed anger surfacing in every part of him.

Miyadate spun, about to reprimand Watanabe but he found that the other had already pulled the comforter over his head, all ready to go back to a hopefully undisturbed sleep this time. So Miyadate left it at that, storming out the room.

When Watanabe was sure that Miyadate was gone from the opera house, he peaked from under the covers as a cheeky smile made its way to his face.

Beginnings of ominous clouds were starting to appear in the sky, enshrouding the palace and the opera house in a blanket of darkness.

 

The palace, as Watanabe had expected, was beautiful at every nook and cranny. White-washed walls lined with gold and silver patterns intertwined, presenting a regal image.

Watanabe was thoroughly impressed.

There was a door left ajar. Watanabe knew he shouldn't go over, knew he shouldn't even be in these hallways. But Watanabe never listened to logic, always choosing to follow his heart instead. Steadily, he approached the door.

Slowly pushing the door open further, Watanabe saw that it was a very plain room; incongruent to the majestic atmosphere of the whole place. The room had a fireplace - a basic furniture in every room - and a blue couch. Only when Watanabe walked in did he realise that there was also a small wooden table near the long windows.

On the table was a glowing pink rose, covered with a transparent glass case.

Mesmerised, Watanabe couldn't tear his gaze away from it. His hands unconsciously reached out to touch the glass casing when a low voice stopped him.

“What are you doing here?”

Lighting flashed.

“I said what are you doing here?”

Thunder boomed.

“I - ” Watanabe found himself speechless and remained that way until Miyadate grabbed his wrist roughly, eliciting a yelp from him, then pulling him back and away from the table he had been standing in front of.

Back faced towards Watanabe, Miyadate curled his fingers into fists, trying to keep his cool, trying to refrain from turning into the monster that he really was. “Don't come near me,” he warned out of kind intention, not wanting to hurt Watanabe by accident, only to realise that Watanabe probably took it as a warning that Miyadate had wanted to hit him.

Tentatively, Watanabe placed a hand on Miyadate’s arm. “I'm sorry.”

How could Miyadate stay mad? His anger had actually already subsided upon sensing Watanabe’s evident fear, but he chose to hold his ground, not wanting to cave in to his sentimentality.

“I didn't mean to. It's just. The door was open and the rose…”

“What about the rose…”

“It's so beautiful. I just wanted to take a look. I didn't touch it.”

“You better not have.” And then Miyadate’s shoulders sagged and Watanabe noticed, with trepidation, claws disappearing back into Miyadate’s skin.

“What are you?” Watanabe asked and Miyadate tensed again.

This time, he turned to face Watanabe, uncertainty clouding his eyes.

“I'm a monster.”

“You're…”

Gently, Watanabe placed his hand on Miyadate’s immaculate, white mask and smoothed his fingers over it, freezing Miyadate to the spot. He was obviously unused to such physical intimacy.

“You're not a monster.”

 

 

“Shota, we should go home.” Miyadate had been crying for a few minutes by now. “Our parents will be worried.”

At five years old, Watanabe Shota was already a little devil, a living nightmare for adults. Although he looked everything like an angel, with an adorable smile and sparkly eyes.

“Ryota!” Watanabe whined. “You promised me we would explore this place together!”

It wasn't a place worth exploring, something they would find out ten years down the road. The nursery had been newly renovated, an extension built for the children to have more room to play. It definitely wasn't worth faking a stomachache to be sent home together only to sneak out the window a few hours later when the sky was dark and when it was their bedtime to run back to their kindergarten to act like detectives in the new block.

“But Shota,” Miyadate sniffed. “It’s raining. And there's thunder.”

“It's okay,” Watanabe reassured him and then held his pinky out. “Pinky promise!”

Miyadate hooked their pinkies together but continued sniffing. Evidently, Miyadate was still afraid. So Watanabe took Miyadate’s hand into his own and Miyadate eventually stopped crying, sending Watanabe a puzzled look.

“Papa always holds mama’s hand when she's scared,” Watanabe simply explained before pulling Miyadate to a cupboard filled with toys.

Upon finding a collection of the newest action figurines, Watanabe squealed in delight, drawing Miyadate’s attention away from the constant rain hitting the glass windows. A low rumble could be heard, freezing them both for a moment but Watanabe relaxed quickly, shrugging it off saying it was still far away.

“What's still far away?” Miyadate asked curiously, looking back to the window. 

“The thunder?” Watanabe suggested and laughed at himself because he didn't even know what he was saying. It didn't bother him, thunder or not, as he continued playing with the action figurines animatedly.

On the other hand, Miyadate was still looking around worriedly. “Shota, it's really late,” Miyadate whimpered as tears started streaming down his face again.

“It's not!” Watanabe rebutted childishly before pushing a figurine into Miyadate’s hands. “Ryota, let's play! We can go home when the rain stops!”

A bit of uncertainty still lingered in Miyadate but upon seeing Watanabe’s expectant look, he stopped worrying and joined in playing with Watanabe. It seemed that Watanabe’s tension multiplied ten folds as soon as Miyadate decided to join him. That realisation had Miyadate breaking out into a huge smile as his mood also brightened up.

 

Lightning flashed; a warning that thunder was approaching, but they didn't know that. Then the thunder roared, the sound booming across the entire kindergarten, causing both Miyadate and Watanabe to scream simultaneously. Without any warning, Miyadate burst out of the playroom, ignoring Watanabe’s calls from behind.

It took a while but when Watanabe finally caught hold of Miyadate’s hand, the latter screamed, scaring them both. Miyadate only stopped when he recognised the familiar warmth around his hands. Staring at Watanabe, Miyadate could only tighten his grip and Watanabe gave a light squeeze to reassure him.

“Let's just walk down the corridor, okay?” Watanabe said and Miyadate nodded.

Hand in hand, tightly, they slowly walked down the dark and quiet hall. Every now and then, they gave each other a gentle squeeze to assure the other that he wasn't alone.

Then they heard footsteps and tensed.

“What are you two kids doing here?” The school’s security guard walked over to them. “Your parents must be worried sick,” he said as he took out a phone to contact the principal.

 

“Who came up with this nonsense?!” Watanabe’s mother shouted angrily. “It must be our Shota!” Then she turned to Miyadate’s mother with an apologetic look. “We are so terribly sorry for Shota’s bad behaviour.”

Quickly, Miyadate’s mother disagreed, assuring Watanabe’s mother that it definitely wasn't all his fault, that her own son was to be blamed as well.

Their kindergarten teacher, a young petite lady squatted in front of them at eye level. “Shota, Ryota,” she addressed them in a soft voice, not wanting to frighten them. “We were all very worried. Both your parents, including me. We've been looking for you two all night. Now, tell me, whose idea was this?”

Slowly, Watanabe was about to put his hand up but Miyadate spoke before he could fully raise it. “Us.”

Shocked, Watanabe stopped crying and stared at Miyadate. “Ryota…”

“It's not Shota’s fault!” Miyadate was determined to get Watanabe out of trouble. “Don't scold him!”

The adults seemed conflicted, knowing that it was a lie. It was obviously Watanabe’s idea, him being the more mischievous of the two. Yet they didn't want to scold Miyadate for lying.

When Miyadate’s mother realised that Miyadate’s arm had a cut, she ushered him aside to bandage the cut. Just as Miyadate went out of earshot, Watanabe confessed, “It was my idea...not ours...so don't blame him. You can scold me.”

His mother's eyes softened as she opened her arms and Watanabe immediately crawled into them, cuddling her.

“As long as both of you are safe,” his mother said as she stoked Watanabe’s hair and hugged him closer as if she would lose him if she let go. “Let's go home.”

“Can I sit with Ryota?” Watanabe asked the same time Miyadate and his mother approached.

“I want to sit with Shota too!” Miyadate agreed and stared at his mother. “Please?”

Their mothers exchanged a look before nodding simultaneously and the two boys cheered. Watanabe struggled a bit to get out of his mother’s hold and she put him down as soon as she realised what he was doing.

“I can walk!” Watanabe proclaimed proudly before giving Miyadate a large grin that translated into _we can walk together_. 

In the car, at the backseat, Watanabe slept soundly against Miyadate’s shoulder. Meanwhile, Miyadate found himself dozing to the sound of the pitter patter sound of the rain tapping against the window.

Throughout the whole car ride, they held onto each other’s hands.

 

 

“Step right up! It's gonna be a rainy ride today!”

“What is he doing?!” Abe shrieked in horror, face aghast as he stared at the commentator’s box.

“He got hired as a part-time commentator?” Iwamoto supplied, eyebrows quirked as he looked at Fukazawa laughing to himself. Probably at himself.

“That's moonlighting!” Abe gasped, struck at the thought.

“What's moonlighting?” Sakuma asked curiously.

As Abe was about to reply, a new voice joined in. “It means to shine like the moon.”

“Shota, you're late and that was unnecessary,” Abe reprimanded. “Your car. Now.”

“You can be sunlighting,” Watanabe said to Sakuma, a glow on his face, ignoring Abe before he walked off towards his illegally dyed liquid blue Ford GT.

“Sakuma, please ignore him,” Abe told his boyfriend.

“It's okay,” Sakuma said sincerely. If were anyone else, especially at an illegal street race event like that, those two simple words would have been dripping with sarcasm. “I know Shota’s like that.”

At that moment, like any other moment, Abe never wished more to be with Sakuma forever.

A blood red Ferrari 488 GTB pulled up next to the blue Ford and its driver rolled down a window to stare at the scene in front of him boredly. The owner of the blue Ford was currently leaning against his car and chatting up a random guy. Typical.

Seeing that Watanabe wasn't going to pay him any attention, let alone acknowledge him, Miyadate killed his engine and stepped out of the car, slamming his door roughly.

When Watanabe was finally done flirting (or making acquaintances as he claimed), he didn't even bother feigning ignorance of Miyadate’s presence.

“He's betting on my win!” Watanabe told Miyadate delightfully.

Miyadate scoffed and leaned against the blue Ford right beside Watanabe. “Yeah? And so are half the people here I heard.”

They stayed silent for a while until Miyadate made a small ‘tch’ sound and kicked the dirt on the ground. “I don't even know why Abe signed us up for this. It's such an amateur track.”

“We're here to support Fukka, remember?” Watanabe said, pushing himself off the car to face Miyadate.

“You are,” Miyadate stated. “We didn't know about his side job.”

Giving a grim smile, Watanabe patted Miyadate’s shoulder before playfully shooing the other back to his own car.

Just as Miyadate was about to enter his car again, his hand stilled at the handle. “Shota?” The other had already gotten into his car but he seemed to have heard as he rolled down his window and looked at Miyadate curiously. “How much do we lose if you don't come in first?”

“A lot?” Watanabe frowned.

“How much do we lose if I come in first?” Miyadate asked, this time in a softer voice, as Watanabe’s eyes widened.

“Ryota, the team talked about this. That you let me win because there are more bets on me.” There was no response from Miyadate, making Watanabe nervous as he bit his bottom lip. “Keep the money rolling in right?” He was using his persuasive voice, the one that worked on everyone except Miyadate.

“But there're bets on our team as a whole right?”

“Ryota,” Watanabe begged. “Please don't do this to me.”

Holding his tongue, Miyadate nodded before getting into his car and drove to the start line without waiting for Watanabe.

It had started raining. He hadn't noticed earlier, too caught up in the conversation with Watanabe and he couldn't hear the pitter patter over his car’s engine either. But his leather jacket was wet.

“Shota, Ryota, you know what to do right?” Abe’s voice came over both their headsets.

“Yes.” Watanabe replied first, sounding uncertain.

Then Miyadate echoed, hesitantly. They both heard Abe sigh but their manager didn't say anything more.

“Iwamoto made a few rounds this morning. There aren't any traps. It's really an amateur track so just stay alert and keep to our plan.”

The flag dropped and the night’s rainy race begun.

 

Stick to the plan - Miyadate knew he should but he simply couldn’t let the chance of winning pass up when there was a straight open path right in front of him. He stepped on the accelerator.

 

“What the fuck!” Watanabe shouted as soon as he was out of his car, slamming the door shut with all the strength in his body and throwing his headset to the floor. “What the fuck was that Miyadate?”

Miyadate hung his head down, refusing to meet Watanabe’s eyes. He knew he shouldn't have but...

Then he felt a slap and the next moment was a blur as he was being dragged away by Abe and Sakuma while Iwamoto carried Watanabe away as the latter struggled in his arms.

“Bring your damn ambitions elsewhere!” It was the last thing Miyadate heard before he was shoved into the backseat of a car. Sakuma’s pink (also illegally dyed) Nissan Skyline.

“Congrats,” Sakuma said from the driver’s seat, flashing him a bright and genuine smile. “Don't worry about the money. We still won a lot. You can use your share to buy Shota a new car. He'll get over it.”

“Sakuma!” Abe scolded and Sakuma shrugged. Then Abe turned his attention to Miyadate. “Yes, congrats. Great skills out there and don't worry about Shota. Just have a nice talk with him later.”

If nice meant kitchenware flying his way then okay. Miyadate nodded, silently accepting his fate.

 

Scarily, Miyadate wasn't greeted by flying pots and pans when he opened the door. Instead, he found himself with an armful of a very drenched Watanabe Shota.

“I didn't mean to slap you, I'm sorry.”

Miyadate sighed and combed his fingers through Watanabe’s wet hair before kissing the top of his head. “It's alright. Go bathe. Don't fall sick.”

Watanabe stared at him for a moment, tears threatening to spill from his eyes before he detached himself from Miyadate and made his way to the toilet.

“Congrats on winning.”

It was sincere. And it was the only thing that mattered.

 

 

The worst of the storm had brewed past. All the sailors were eternally grateful for the fact that they were travelling on a ship made out of steel. While there was still rain falling, it was nothing the crew couldn’t handle. 

Unlike in the past where ships were made of wood, easily broken by even the smallest of storms. Merchants and pirates alike risked big whenever they were on the sea. They were risking not only their fortunes and the ship itself, they were also risking their life. It used to be like a cruel game for those at sea, a bet with the Gods if you would win or lose. If the Heavens were against you, you’d lose the bet along with your life. If luck shone in your favour, you came out glorious and rich.

That obviously wasn’t the case now: ships were well-built, carefully constructed, following the blueprints done by professional architects. 

The deck was busy, full of activity as almost every sailor were out there, trying to keep the cleanliness of the ship, disregarding the light rainfall and how it was the wee hours of the night. Each sailor had been assigned to a particular part of the ship by the ever responsible captain of the ship.

The captain was a young man, with broad shoulders and big hands. A kind smile and a gentle voice. He wore cologne though no one knew the brand.

At least that was everything Watanabe had noticed. He sighed wistfully as he watched the captain supervising the crew. Next to him, Abe was diligently scrubbing the floor.

“Shota!” Abe scolded. “Do your job!”

“I'm done,” Watanabe said lazily, not taking his eyes off the captain as he waved a hand at Abe dismissively. “See. There.” He added for extra measures and pointed to a spot thoroughly cleaned.

Honestly, he didn't understand why they had to clean the ship when it was still drizzling.

“Of course we had to start early! The storm made a mess!” Abe chided, as if reading Watanabe’s mind. Not really. Watanabe had unintentionally complained aloud, drawing the attention of the other sailors nearby. And with Abe’s exclamation, he drew the captain over.

“Good job,” Watanabe said dryly and stood up when he saw the captain approaching. Subconsciously, he pulled his sleeves up, since they were covering his hands.

“Is there a problem here?”

Oh, that wonderfully gentle voice.

“Nothing at all, sir,” Watanabe answered earnestly. “Captain.”

“I told you Ryota is fine. Captain sounds old.” Miyadate had lowered his voice.

A smile appeared on Watanabe’s face. “Ryota.”

Before Miyadate could say anything more, another sailor called him over. He called back with a quick ‘coming’ then turned to face Watanabe. “I'll see you around, Shota.”

“You,” Abe said, voice accusatory as he pointed at Watanabe. “Have a relationship with the captain!”

“Nah,” Watanabe replied with a noncommittal shrug. “He just appreciates my face as much as I appreciate his.”

“There are plenty of people better-looking than you,” Abe deadpanned.

“Says someone better looking than me,” Watanabe teased.

“Shota!” 

“I'm done with my work. I'm going to rest,” Watanabe announced as he threw his rug at Abe. “See you in the bunk, Abe-chan.”

 

Yes, he had intended to sleep. Rest for a while before he had to wake up when the sun rose (soon) and attend to his normal duties. The storm had come as an unwanted and nasty shock.

Getting to talk to the captain was, however, a very pleasant surprise.

He had some rest, if closing his eyes counted. But sleep had been far away. On top of that, he was waiting to Abe to return because he couldn't sleep alone. Abe hadn't gone back though, probably having gone to Sakuma’s bunk instead. Watanabe didn't blame him.

So he decided since it was futile to lie restlessly on his bed, why not take a stroll along the deck before it got crowded with passengers.

It was quiet and peaceful now. Just what Watanabe needed.

The early morning air was chilly, making the hair at the back of Watanabe’s neck stand. He tugged on his sleeves so that he could bury more of his hands in them (not like they weren't already covering up to half his palm) to keep warm. It didn't help much, as he could still feel the ghostly touch of the wind through the material of his uniform.

Not wanting to let the cold disturb his tranquility, Watanabe opted for sitting cross-legged at the bow of the ship. Maybe it was a mistake since it was where the wind was the strongest but Watanabe felt comfortable there in spite of the chilly wind.

Quiet footsteps could be heard from behind, startling him slightly. He turned around when he saw a shadow upon him and found himself looking up at the captain. Before he could greet his superior, he sneezed. And sneezed again.

Embarrassed, Watanabe was about to say something but was stopped again. This time, by a blanket thrown onto his face. He struggled a bit before successfully pulling the blanket off. But it was the captain who helped him adjust it properly around his shoulder.

“Wouldn't want you to catch a cold…” Miyadate muttered, concentrating on tying a small knot in front of Watanabe’s chest.

“Are you always this attentive to your sailors? Or is it only me?” Watanabe joked. But deep down, he wished to be someone special to the captain, even if it was just a fling.

The captain remained silent for a while, making Watanabe’s stomach turn.

“Only you,” Miyadate admitted, voice steady as he finished the knot. “Done.”

“Thanks…” Watanabe muttered, unsure of how to react to Miyadate’s words. “You're a nice captain. I would travel to the ends of the world with you if you asked.”

It just came out and Watanabe instantly regretted his words until Miyadate spoke.

“I would sail with you on every ship.”

The drizzle lasted all the way till the morning.

 

 

“Your job is to protect the King of Naboo.”

Miyadate bowed, accepting the order graciously. The King of Naboo, Miyadate wondered what kind of a person he would be.

It was a rather curious case, that Naboo had elected a King instead of a Queen this time. Excitement thrummed in Miyadate’s veins as he prepared for his mission. Miyadate was anticipating meeting this newly elected King of Naboo.

 _“Upon your arrival, immediately bring him to the safe house in Varykino. You'll find everything you need there._ Those had been his orders. And being steadfast in his attitude, his orders he shall follow.

 

The trip to Naboo was surprisingly quick and Miyadate was soon faced with the King. Formalities were exchanged briefly and in no time, they were boarding a small boat which was to transport them to Varykino, a lake retreat in Naboo.

While the King had been silent, choosing to stare at the vast lands they passed by instead of striking up a conversation or so much so as look at Miyadate, the latter had done quite a bit of observation. One of which was that the King had a nice left profile. Superficial deductions were really all Miyadate could come up with due to the jarring lack of interaction.

Next, Miyadate noticed that the King didn’t really have as high a nose as was rumoured but he did have pretty bow-shaped lips.

 

After the first few days with the King, Miyadate concluded that the other wasn’t cold and distant. In fact, he was quite the opposite - clingy and noisy. And Miyadate quite liked that.

 

The King lay down on a soft patch of luscious green grass, its smooth blades tickling his neck when he stretched out his limbs. Beside him, Miyadate sat, quietly observing, wondering what would happen next. The King was a rather unpredictable person - that was what Miyadate had learned over the course of time.

Watanabe hummed a soft tune as he reached out to a flower in the grassfield. Gently, he plucked the flower out and brought it to his nose, sniffing it, before he laid it down beside him.

All of a sudden, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, startling Miyadate. Then he was moving closer to Miyadate, until they were side by side, shoulders almost touching. Watanabe had made sure that their shoulders weren't touching.

“Ryota, look at the flowers. Aren't they pretty?” There was a lilt in his voice.

Miyadate smiled as he felt a surge of irrational courage and opened his palm towards a patch of Daffodils, using the Force to lift them off the ground. As Miyadate directed them over, Watanabe watched curiously.

It was too late to order Miyadate to stop whatever he was doing when Watanabe realised what was happening.

“I'm not a girl.” The protest was on his lips but so was the sweet, enchanting smile that told Miyadate he didn't mind letting the latter weave flowers into the hair. “So this is what you do with the Force?”

Smiling, Miyadate stopped his ministrations and picked up a stalk of white lily and passing it to Watanabe. “The Force does more than that, your Highness.”

 

“You intrigue me, my lord,” Miyadate admitted out of the blue one day when they were resting out in the open on the patch of warm green grass as usual.

“Do I?” Watanabe mused, chuckling slightly, his laughter ringing in the wind. “And you intrigue me, my young Padawan.”

They were staring into each other's eyes when the sudden pouring rain came. Watanabe laughed, his mouth slightly parted in shock while Miyadate remained stoic.

“Race you, Jedi.” And that was all the warning Miyadate got before Watanabe was up and onto his feet, fleeing from the downpour and towards the house.

It took a moment for Miyadate to fully grasp the situation and with that, he was racing towards the shelter as well. While he was supposedly faster than Watanabe, the other had an unfair advantage and Miyadate only managed to catch up when they were in one of the long corridors.

In a moment of boldness, Miyadate reached out and grabbed Watanabe’s hand to prevent the other from running further. Watanabe burst out into laughter as he allowed Miyadate to pull him towards him. Careless footing and giddy with adrenaline, Watanabe collided into Miyadate’s chest. The laughter didn’t stop, sending vibrations throughout Miyadate’s body.

“Stop it,” Miyadate groaned, but Watanabe continued laughing, helplessly. “I don’t even get what’s so funny.”

“Your face,” Watanabe said in between fits of giggles. “When it started pouring. You looked so.” He stopped there as uncontrollable laughter spilled from his lips.

The King wasn’t a very polite person, Miyadate stored this piece of information at the back of his mind.

“I don’t mean to be rude or anything,” Watanabe reasoned as he smiled sweetly at Miyadate, evidently suppressing the urge to laugh right in his face. “It’s just that. You looked so serious. You always look so serious and yet you weave flowers into my hair.”

There was a faint blush across Miyadate’s cheek. “My Lord.”

“You’re awfully shy now even though your hands are still around my waist. No, leave them there,” Watanabe added in the second sentence as if sensing that Miyadate was about to remove them, his tone commanding, absolute and Miyadate had no choice but to obey.

“Your Highness?” Miyadate asked tentatively after a moment of silence. “Is there anything you require me to do?”

“Yes,” Watanabe replied. “Say my name.”

It was an abrupt request that caused Miyadate to widen his eyes. Watanabe was looking at him encouragingly, eyes that seemed to tell him to hurry up.

“Shota.” Miyadate felt the name at the tip of his tongue and it came out before he even registered what was happening.

The smile that appeared on Watanabe’s face was the sweetest one Miyadate had seen by far. It took his breath away and he almost couldn’t hear the storm raging outside.

 

 

The low rumble of the thunder didn't make Miyadate flinch in the slightest. Nothing seemed to scare him now that he was held captive in one of the many Watanabe households. Okay, maybe captive wasn't the right word seeing as the youngest prince had appointed him as his personal bodyguard. Still, he had been captured. This was all against his own will.

Absently, he traced the carvings on the handle of the sword held snugly in its sheaf.

In all his life, Miyadate had never thought he would encounter someone as powerful as a Watanabe. The name ran long and old into the deepest roots of history, stretching back ages into the past. They had been and still were one of the most powerful Yakuza clans.

Perhaps Miyadate should see this as an honour - to be able to serve by the side of the youngest prince. But this was no honour at all, Miyadate knew that much. And he wasn't going to be treated nicely either.

It was time to accept his fate.

Miyadate glanced over to the small room the prince had cooped himself in for the past day and sighed. The prince didn't appear to be a bad person by nature, albeit with a poison tongue and a seemingly vicious attitude. He could also be quite irritating at times, but that had more to do with Miyadate’s own prejudices than anything else.

On the bright side, the prince had a pretty face Miyadate absolutely didn't mind admiring. If only he had a pleasant personality, or at least a more pleasant one than now.

Though that wasn't much comfort as Miyadate hardly saw the prince’s face. While he was the prince's personal bodyguard, which meant that he had to follow the other wherever he went, he was to follow behind. Additionally, Miyadate had observed, the prince did not like showing his face unnecessarily. Miyadate had been given orders from inside a room, from behind a separating panel and from a room next door.

Suddenly, an ear-piercing scream cut through the air, startling Miyadate, alerting him fully. Upon realising it was the prince's voice, Miyadate hurriedly got onto his feet and dashed straight to the other’s room, telling a passing guard on the way _I can handle this_.

And he should be able to deal with it because protecting the prince was his duty. If anything were to happen to the Watanabe’s youngest prince, every fault would fall on him and he would be completely blamed. All in all, it was a very large price to pay for the life of one so Miyadate had better do his job properly.

Without knocking, he slid the paper door open and found the prince huddled up in a corner, the accounts book laid open on the low table in the room.

“Watanabe-sama,” Miyadate greeted, not forgetting his manners because the prince may have his head for that too. “Is there anything wrong?”

Wordlessly, the prince pointed and Miyadate’s eyes followed the direction of his fingers naturally. There, he found a kitten holding a lizard between its teeth.

Oh.

So Miyadate walked over and picked the kitten up, frightening the little creature slightly, making Watanabe frown.

“Get rid of it,” Watanabe muttered.

When Miyadate shook the kitten while pointing at it, Watanabe glared and pointed to the lizard.

“A yakuza prince,” Miyadate said mockingly. “Afraid of a tiny lizard.”

“You're tired of living, aren't you.” It wasn't a question. “Get rid of the lizard and pass me the kitten.”

As instructed, Miyadate released the kitten and the animal ran into Watanabe’s lap. Then Miyadate opened the sliding door once more to fling the lizard out into the rain despite Watanabe’s protest.

“It might not survive the heavy rain,” Miyadate tried reasoning but Watanabe was paying him no heed, choosing to focus his attention on the kitten.

Turning around and reaching for a small box in a drawer, Watanabe pulled out some cat food for the kitten to nibble on, surprising Miyadate.

“So you don't kill everything,” Miyadate mused, watching Watanabe feed the kitten. It was quite an adorable and endearing side.

“Know your place and shut up.” Not so cute anymore.

“Is this what you've been doing all day?” Miyadate continued, not caring if he was offending the prince. He felt awfully courageous that night.

“Are you dumb? Who do you take me for?” Watanabe spat, displeased.

Then all of a sudden, Watanabe stopped playing with the kitten and stared at Miyadate, causing the latter to subconsciously touch his face.

“Is there something on my face?”

Then Watanabe burst out laughing. “You're from Aomori! Your accent!”

“Is it that funny?” Miyadate asked through gritted teeth, slighted by Watanabe’s remark.

Evidently, Watanabe didn't care, his whole body shaking with mirth as he couldn't stop laughing. It took a while for him to calm down and by then, he also decided it was time to let the kitten leave through a tiny hole in his wall.

“Escort me back to my chambers.”

Miyadate silently obeyed.

The floor was wet outside from the rain. It was still raining, making the wood even more slippery. Even Miyadate had to watch out in order not to fall. The prince on the other hand, wasn't being careful.

Instinctively, Miyadate grabbed onto Watanabe’s hand before the other slipped. He didn't let go until Watanabe told him to in an unusually soft voice.

When they reached Watanabe’s room, Miyadate was ready to leave as soon as Watanabe had entered but the other had begun speaking, forcing him to stay put.

“Thank you.” That wasn't what Miyadate had expected but he remained silent. “And for the record, I don't enjoy killing or seeing people die but it's simply in my destiny.”

Not knowing what to say and feeling daring, Miyadate reached out to cup Watanabe’s face. “Sleep well. Good night, princess.”

Immediately, Watanabe slapped his hand off and pulled his door shut. Unmistakably, Miyadate had caught a glimpse of a small smile.

 

 

Life in school without Miyadate would be fine. That was Watanabe’s first thought when he heard from his mother that they were going to different schools again. It wasn't like they shared the same Elementary school anyway. So it would be fine.

Never in his life before had he been so wrong.

Middle school was a totally different ball game. The people were obviously different and so was the environment. Watanabe’s school hours became longer and his workload increased dramatically (it was a lot for someone who didn't like homework).

Watanabe concluded that life in Elementary school had been fine without Miyadate because the hours were shorter and they had less work, allowing them to meet in their neighbourhood. On top of that, they had been to the same swimming school. It hadn't been difficult to see each other.

Technically, they still went to the same dance school so it wasn't like Miyadate had been completely cut off from Watanabe’s life. Still, Watanabe felt like something was different.

In spite of that, he was popular at school, well liked by his peers (definitely) and teachers (occasionally). Being the ‘funny guy’, it was natural everyone would love him. He wasn't trying hard either, it was simply in his nature.

Yet, he still felt that something was missing.

 

“Shota, sorry I'm late.”

There was his missing puzzle piece.

“It's fine,” Watanabe replied his childhood friend with a genuine smile. “Let's go.”

“Wait,” Miyadate said and pulled Watanabe’s arm to stop him from walking away. “Is this really how you wear your uniform?”

Watanabe gave a confused look and looked down at his clothes. “Yeah?”

“Shota,” Miyadate sounded like he was whining. “I put effort in tying your tie for you.”

“I know. It's easier to loosen it now. Thanks.”

That wasn't the point. Miyadate groaned. Watanabe Shota was insufferable and incurable.

“Oh?” Watanabe stretched out his hand, palm facing the sky. “It's raining,” he said when he felt the first few drops of water touching his skin. “Loser gets wet.” And with that, he took off, leaving Miyadate bewildered on the spot until he realised what was happening.

They both reach the dance studio they had booked for extra practice more or less drenched. The light rainfall had now turned into a heavy thunderstorm.

By the time they had finished practising, it was still pouring.

“There's a taxi stand nearby. If we run, we would be a little drenched but it's better than walking to the station or bus stop.”

“Okay,” was all Watanabe said before dashing out the room. “Loser gets wet!”

For all Watanabe’s talk about only ‘losers getting wet’, he never failed to get wet himself, Miyadate thought dryly when they were in the backseat of the cab.

 

Miyadate was lounging on the sofa in his living room when his mother entered with an excited grin on her face.

“Shota got into Johnny's!”

“Okay.” It was honestly Miyadate’s first reaction. He hadn't wondered why Watanabe left their dance school so suddenly but he had never really bothered asking either. So it was for this - the entertainment industry.

Truthfully, Miyadate thought he would have a much bigger reaction but it wasn't like he could control his feelings. He wasn't jealous or angry. He felt happy thinking this might have been Watanabe’s dream. He didn't feel betrayed. All in all, whatever he felt were more on the positive end, but nothing too extreme either.

“Do you want to join too?” His mother asked gleefully, clasping her hands together.

“No,” Miyadate deadpanned.

 

Despite that, Miyadate found himself in a room full of boys dancing with number tags pasted on the front of their shirt to a hit song produced by Johnny's Entertainment several months later

Unable to control his thought, Miyadate couldn't help but feel out of place in his t-shirt and cargo pants. _Everyone was in t-shirt and cargo pants._ His mind supplied thoughtfully. He still felt uncomfortable even though he danced better than three quarters of the room.

Pushing these unnecessary worries out of his mind, he decided to concentrate on dancing only to be distracted again by a mop of black messy curls at the front. It was definitely Watanabe. No one else had such untamable hair. No one Miyadate knew anyway. It might have been another random boy but Miyadate was oddly certain that it was Watanabe.

His suspicion was confirmed when he looked into the mirror and saw the other’s twinkling eyes on him. They seem to say _it's been awhile_. Miyadate smiled, feeling more in place than ever at that moment.

Later, when Watanabe had left the group of dancing boys, Miyadate found himself growing nervous again. But when he looked to his left and met Watanabe’s eyes, he relaxed instantly. Squinting, he saw Watanabe motioning to his wrist and then Miyadate understood and took off his wristband. He would have to ask Watanabe about this later.

 

“The seniors don't like that,” Watanabe explained even without Miyadate prompting him when they were eating lunch together. “They’d think you're trying to be cool and all that.”

So that was why. “Thanks.”

Watanabe beamed, teeth flashing. “You're welcome!”

Comfortable silence settled between them before Watanabe spoke again. “Wanna go home together?”

“Sure.” Miyadate wouldn't say no.

 

“I didn't bring an umbrella,” Watanabe moaned when he saw the sky turning dark.

Miyadate laughed, hands reaching for his umbrella in his bag but he stopped. He had a better idea. Flashing Watanabe a grin, he said, “Loser gets wet,” and sped off to the nearest bus stop which wasn't that far away.

Stunned, Watanabe had a late start.

“That’s not fair!” Watanabe scolded, whacking Miyadate’s back for good measures when he reached the bus stop.

That was when Miyadate pulled out an umbrella and smiled at Watanabe. “We can share.”

“Why didn't you say so earlier?!” Watanabe groaned, glaring at Miyadate but he looked more like a soaked puppy.

“I've always wanted to say that to you,” Miyadate admitted, smiling.

 

 

It was unnaturally lively on The Lost Butterfly. The crew were dancing and drinking, engaging in playful fights, singing to old tunes of the sea, unconcerned about the impending storm. They had just successfully looted from a Government ship, with no casualties on either sides.

This crew weren't like the usual pirates. Their Captain had taught them compassion; steal goods but not life unless if it was unavoidable.

Still, it wasn't like they had a good reputation with the Government and merchant ships. Pirates were still pirates. Besides, they were a crew well-known for their strength and strategies.

The night was still young, the party had just begun and Watanabe wasn’t actively being a part of it. He sat at the Quarter Deck, drinking from a glass bottle of rum as he watched the fun unfold before him. At times like this, he wondered how life would have been if he hadn’t boarded this ship seven years ago.

Looking back, it had already been seven long and difficult years at sea. Being the Navigator of the ship, Watanabe had his fair share of troublesome duties and privileged benefits. Of course, there had been enjoyment as well but it was mostly hardship. Yet, Watanabe didn’t mind. And it was simply for one reason.

“Shota.” It was the Gunner, Iwamoto. “The Captain wants you in his room.”

“What for?” Watanabe asked, faking drunk. “Don’t tell me work.” He laughed bitterly. “Can’t he see?” He gestured at the crowd with the glass bottle. “We’re having fun.”

Debatable. “You don’t look like you’re having a lot of fun,” Iwamoto pointed out dryly. When Watanabe didn’t respond, Iwamoto sighed and walked over, hulling the older man up by hooking his arms under the other’s arms. “Up you go. Let’s not keep the Captain waiting.”

“I’m older than you,” Watanabe complained, annoyance evident on his face from being manhandled, especially by someone younger. “And what’s with making him wait for a while?” He was starting to slur. “I waited for him for ten years,” he whined pathetically.

Just as Iwamoto finally dragged Watanabe, with some effort, to the Captain’s room, the door swung open. Instantly, Iwamoto pushed the drunk man onto the Captain and walked off, leaving the Captain stunned speechless as he fumbled a little to hold Watanabe in place.

“I asked for my Navigator.” Miyadate stared impassively at the red-faced man in his arms. “Not a drunkard.” He tsk-ed softly before bringing the other fully into his room and closing the door.

Knowing exactly what would sober Watanabe up immediately, Miyadate brought over a hot towel and a cup of water. Shortly after, Watanabe became more alert. He hadn't been that drunk after all apparently. What a way to avoid responsibilities. But so Watanabe Shota.

“I'm sorry for calling you over just as the rain started.” Miyadate didn't sound apologetic though. “Let’s hope the rain stops by the time we're done discussing.” He didn't mean it. In fact, he meant the opposite. “You'd have to sleep here otherwise.” That sounded like a good idea to Watanabe.

“What's this about?” Watanabe asked irritatedly, making no attempt to conceal his foul mood. He hadn't intended on working for the next 24 hours.

On the table lay a map of the Northern Oceans they were sailing on.

“Backup routes,” Miyadate stated as if it was obvious. 

It was, actually. Watanabe had to plan out several routes for every new area they were going to cover. He just hadn't had time to work on this one.

Realising that it was he who had neglected his duty, Watanabe turned to his professional side within a matter of seconds and started mapping out the routes seriously.

Engrossed in their work and discussion, they both hadn't realised that the party outside had died down. Neither had they noticed that most of the storm was over. Although Miyadate did notice that there was still rain pattering against his windows, indicating a small rainfall.

“Cold?” Watanabe asked, the only sign he knew the rain was continuing. Maybe he had even known about the end of the storm.

Now done with the various, carefully crafted routes, Watanabe was in a visibly lighter mood. He slumped against the chair and left his right hand lying limply on the table, causing Miyadate to avert his gaze to the trail of butterflies tattooed on the other’s skin.

Miyadate traced the inked butterflies, stretching from Watanabe’s wrist, twirling around his arm to the joint of his elbow. Moving his hand away, he reached out to a small wooden box next to the sole candle that lit up the room. From it, he picked up a silver earring with butterflies dangling and beckoned Watanabe to lean over. Being in a good mood, Watanabe complied obediently, even pushing his hair behind his ear so that Miyadate had easier access to his ear hole.

“You kept it,” Watanabe sing-songed as he felt the familiar weight on his ear.

Miyadate adjusted a piece of stray hair away from Watanabe’s face, thumb brushing against his cheek bone before letting his hand fall to his side. “Sometimes I wonder if you miss life on land.”

“Ryota.” No more titles. “You left me when we were seven, promised me a better life in the future when we had still been so unsure about the world.” Watanabe smiled as a fond memory crept into his mind. “Then you came back when we were seventeen and took me away from a life I would never look back to.”

“Life is dangerous at sea.”

“I've been living well, haven't I?”

“Shota -”

Gently, Watanabe pressed his index finger against Miyadate’s lips to stop the latter from saying anymore. Then, he brought his other fingers up to brush against them before slowly pulling away, smiling. The earring glistened under the soft glow of the burning flame.

“I will follow you. Follow you wherever you may go.”

“They say the Earth is flat.”

“Then I’ll sail to the edge with you.”

 

 

Cold-blooded creatures they were. Monsters of the night, they preferred. Or to put it simply but crudely - bloodsuckers.

“We're just vampires, oh my gosh!” Watanabe snapped. “I don't call you mortals warm-blooded trash or daytime nightmares right?”

The human stared at Watanabe, a quizzical expression clouded his face. “You're a…”

“Vampire,” Watanabe supplied helpfully, folding his arms across his chest.

But really, Watanabe looked nothing like a vampire. A vampire wannabe maybe, with his red hair styled with too much gel, cornrow braids on one side. Eyeliner put on perfectly as if done by a professional, a peach pink shade of lip gloss and red eye shadow. Moreover, he was in a pair of tight skinny jeans, ripped at both knees, making his legs look longer than they actually were.

All in all, Watanabe looked like a party maniac. Not a Vampire Lord.

“You look…”

“Skunk,” Watanabe said suddenly, effectively shutting the human up as the latter pointed to himself and Watanabe nodded. “Stop talking. I'm a vampire. Period. And I'm hungry. I drink blood like you drink alcohol. It's the same concept.”

Upon hearing those words, the human’s face paled incredibly before he vomited out the contents of his drink at the bar. Watanabe scrunched up his nose in disgust.

“You skunk! How am I going to drink from you now?!”

“Shota.”

Hearing that deep, but gentle voice, Watanabe can't help but get distracted from his prey. It was Miyadate, his lover and the last person he turned.

“He vomited. I can't drink from him,” Watanabe stated as a matter of factly.

“Then find another one,” Miyadate chastised as if Watanabe were a kid. “He’s disgusting.” Then Miyadate glared at the human who was still throwing up. “Did you drink too much that your vision is now impaired, Shota?” That condescending tone Watanabe hated.

Without so much as another word, Watanabe walked off, leaving Miyadate to clear up the mess; mainly to erase the human’s memory. Like always.

Shortly after, Miyadate caught up with Watanabe easily, calling out to him to stop walking so quickly so they could go hunt for food together. But Watanabe clearly had no intentions of listening to Miyadate, even going to the extent of flitting, making it harder for the other to catch up. Watanabe was, after all, a few thousand years old while Miyadate was only a few hundred, barely five. A baby.

It was only when it started raining all of a sudden did Watanabe slow down, yearning for the warmth of Miyadate. As if sensing Watanabe’s need, Miyadate was by the other’s side in a heartbeat, immediately wrapping his arms around the other’s waist from behind, forcing him to stop in his tracks.

“Do we really have to do this in the rain?” Watanabe questioned boredly, not really minding the feeling of warmth seeping through him when Miyadate nuzzled his neck.

“Does it matter?” Miyadate mumbled against Watanabe’s neck, pressing a kiss there.

“I’m cold,” Watanabe complained, effectively stopping all of Miyadate’s ministrations. “Wet. And hungry.”

“You’re almost three thousand years old,” Miyadate deadpanned, shooting Watanabe an unamused look. “And you sound like a sixteen year old boy who got his pocket money confiscated.”

“And you need to shut up and know your place,” Watanabe snapped, baring his fangs as his eyes turned golden.

Instinctively, Miyadate backed away a few metres. Angering Watanabe was never a pretty sight. He chose to keep the distance even when Watanabe turned on his heels and started walking again. Smart move since Watanabe seemed ready to bite off anyone’s neck, including his. Miyadate was already pitying the next person Watanabe was going to feed on.

Luckily for Watanabe, he managed to catch not one, but three unsuspecting middle schoolers in an alley, about to start an alcohol party. He had done this many times before, it was easy. Just approach them timidly and then look into their eyes, charm them into oblivion and then drink. Simple.

But Watanabe wasn’t in a good mood. He bared his fangs straight away and sunk them into one of the boy’s neck while freezing the other two on the spot, which silenced them from screaming as well. When he deemed that he had drunk enough from the first boy, he moved on to the next victim and then the next. This was simple too.

“Wasn’t that a bit too much?” Miyadate asked as Watanabe let the third boy, looking almost lifeless, fall to the dirty ground.

No response. That worried Miyadate quite a bit.

“Shota?”

“I’m still hungry,” Watanabe growled, the gold in his eyes shining when he looked at Miyadate.

“Come here,” Miyadate offered, baring his neck for Watanabe who flitted to his side the next instant before licking a stripe up Miyadate’s neck and then proceeding to break the skin there.

After a long while, Miyadate started to feel dizzy, his limbs growing weak. “Shota,” he called out weakly as he tried to push the other away least he got sucked dry. Watanabe wouldn’t do something like sucking people or other vampires dry though.

Watanabe didn’t say a thing, merely brought his wrist up to Miyadate’s mouth as he continued sucking from the latter’s neck, only at a slower pace now. Miyadate understood what Watanabe was asking him to do even without any words and went on to bite down, hard. Watanabe winced slightly.

It was natural for Watanabe to be unused to such pain. After all, he was used to biting, not being bitten. Though with Miyadate being turned by him and being his lover, getting his blood drunk was unavoidable if he wanted the other to survive. 

Such an intimate act always made Watanabe wish he still had a beating heart so he could feel it speed up from the exhilaration.

Once they both had their fill, Watanabe slumped against Miyadate’s chest. “Cold,” he mumbled as Miyadate carded his fingers through Watanabe’s damp hair.

“Ridiculous,” Miyadate whispered fondly but wrapped his arms around Watanabe anyway.

 

 

Laughter and music filled the overly decorated ballroom. Its grandeur and magnificence was evident by its width and high ceiling, and how it was furnished extravagantly. The walls were coated milk white, the whiteness enhanced by beautiful paintings of angels gathered amongst the clouds, playing harps and flutes. The floor was made from the most expensive of marbles, an almost translucent emerald colour where sparkly silver swirls were incorporated in a fashionable manner, polished every day and night for the past year.

On the ceiling hung rows of ornate crystal chandeliers, setting the ballroom aglow. The light refracted off the surface of the marbled floor giving off an empyrean effect.

Leading to this splendid room was two mighty doors made entirely out of genuine rosewood. Each door had been carved in an intricate and elegant manner, mirroring one another. Every inch of the doors had gold specs of dust illuminating the texture, accentuating the carvings of flowers and abstract lines.

Panels of white doors, each equipped with a transparent glass occupying the top half, made out of a pale cream-coloured marble separated the dance floor from the balcony.

As the dances proceeded within the room, Watanabe stood outside, leaning against a section of the white marble balustrade.

“I haven't seen you dance at all.” A gentle voice came from behind, surprising Watanabe, his shoulders tensing slightly.

Upon realising who it was, Watanabe instantly relaxed. “Ryota,” he greeted conversationally while Miyadate nodded and slowly closed the distance between them.

“I thought you had been engaged for at least the first two dances,” Miyadate said casually, but his body language told Watanabe that he was annoyed. “Don’t tell me no one proposed,” Miyadate paused, as if contemplating the idea then he shook his head. “Because that can’t be possible.”

“There had been proposals,” Watanabe begun but stopped himself short to observe Miyadate. The other appeared composed if not for both his hands balled tightly into fists. So Watanabe rested his hand upon one of Miyadate’s in an attempt to calm him down. “But I rejected all of them.”

As if sensing that Miyadate was going to ask something he wanted to avoid answering, Watanabe continued. “Haven't you offered any proposals? I’ve heard many talks about ladies and lords alike wanting to be engaged to you for their first dance. Didn't propose to any of them?”

Miyadate shook his head slowly as he looked down, his hair falling over his eyes, almost touching his eyelids but not quite, making him look infinitely younger and absolutely adorable. Watanabe reminded himself to breathe.

“No, Shota. No. I didn't make any proposals.” Miyadate ended with a soft chuckle which caused Watanabe to puff his cheeks up, unable to understand why Miyadate had laughed.

“So you haven't had any dance engagements at all?” Watanabe asked, perplexed, a frown marring his beautiful features.

“I haven't. Is it that surprising?” Miyadate replied, clearly amused, making Watanabe pout. “The only person I wanted to offer a proposal to had a long line of suitors waiting outside his house.”

“You could have joined the queue,” Watanabe answered quickly, as if blaming him.

“I had work. I was busy,” Miyadate stated simply, not making it sound like he was defending himself. “Dear.” He added as an afterthought, causing a pretty blush to spread across Watanabe’s cheeks.

A comfortable silence settled between them and Watanabe started playing with the fabric of his jacket before Miyadate started speaking again. “Why didn't you accept any proposals?”

“I was waiting for yours,” Watanabe answered sincerely, voice void of shyness.

That caused Miyadate to let out a hearty laugh while Watanabe stared at him expectantly. “Well?”

“May I?” Miyadate asked, stretching his hand out, palm facing upwards for Watanabe to take.

Gleefully, Watanabe took Miyadate’s hand. “This is conventional.”

Before Watanabe could say anything more, Miyadate tightened his grip, flashed a grin and then took off towards the stairs at the side, pulling Watanabe who gladly followed along with him. They ran past a swing embellished with purple lilacs and white lilies before crossing a navy blue bridge beautified with a layer of glittering silver coat.

They reached a mini pavilion situated in the middle of a lake as the first drop of rain fell from the sky. Surrounding it were vines entwined around the pillars and roses adorning the edges of the floor.

“This feels oddly familiar,” Miyadate mused as he pressed his forehead against Watanabe’s, one hand circling his waist.

“Mm,” Watanabe hummed as he leaned against Miyadate’s chest. “I don't know how to dance.”

“Because you skipped all your lessons,” Miyadate chastised but Watanabe remained unfazed and not a single bit sheepish. Typical. “I'll teach you. Put one hand on my shoulder. The other on my hip.”

Following Miyadate’s instructions, Watanabe did as he was told before fixing the former with a steady gaze. “I'm not one of those girls who think they're fairies and would break at the slightest touch. You don't have to be so gentle.”

Again, Miyadate laughed. At Watanabe, annoying him thoroughly. The background noise of rain tapping against the surface of the water created a soothing ambience as Miyadate coached Watanabe patiently, holding him gently as if he were a delicate petal much to Watanabe’s chagrin.

“Let's get married here in spring. The flowers are really pretty then,” Miyadate announced abruptly, then pressed a kiss to Watanabe’s forehead.

Miyadate wasn't lying; Watanabe knew that much. They have both been attending the annual Spring Dance and it was held here last year. All the different species of flowers had been in full bloom, lighting up the place vividly, adding a glowing effect to the already ethereal looking garden. The lake, in spring, glistened like a gem under the sunlight, attracting guests, allowing them to socialise as the cool breeze kissed their napes.

“You can wear a flower crown.”

This time, it was Watanabe’s turn to laugh heartily, the sound echoing softly, overriding the sound of the splatter against the lake.

 

 

No. Not now.

Watanabe’s prayers clearly went unheard as he felt the first drops of water. The darkness of the sky spoke of a heavy waterfall. A timeout would be called soon for the players to change their uniforms into ones more suited for the rainy weather.

Ravenclaw was in the lead but the rain might disrupt their momentum. Still, the timeout had to be called and both teams retreated to their respective tents to put on a pair of goggles and extra paddings.

Once they were out on the field again, the crowed roared with excitement and anticipation.

 

Frantically, Watanabe looked around the Quidditch field, trying to note what was happening in the game. The snitch was still nowhere to be seen, seeing how each team’s Seekers were still hovering high above the playing field from a distance, attempting to catch a glimpse of a golden sparkle. The Beaters were simply looking around, hands probably itching to hit any one of the two bludgers flying around the pitch. Watanabe couldn’t spot any of them. Never mind them then.

Most importantly, what were the Keepers and Chasers doing? And where was the quaffle? That red, heavy ba-

Oh.

It was currently in Watanabe’s possession. He realised it the same time he spotted a bludger flying towards him.

Easily, Watanabe maneouvered out of the flying object’s way by swerving sharply to the left. Once he was safely out of the bludger’s line of sight, he proceeded to scan his surroundings in order to find the other team’s Beaters. Thankfully for him, he found one of the two Beaters easily; the one he didn't really care about, and found him concentrating seriously on the game.

That could only mean it was the other Beater who sent that bloody bludger in Watanabe’s direction. The Beater Watanabe cared excessively about and loved dearly, so much so he had to see the other's face at least five times a day. Or namely, Miyadate Ryota, his boyfriend, who currently wasn't on the best terms with him right now.

Looking around for a while more, Watanabe found Miyadate staring down at him from above mockingly. With gritted teeth, Watanabe held on tighter to his broom and the quaffle before he sped towards one of the three goal posts.

As he was nearing one of them, he didn't slow down, instead, he bent forward a little and squinted his eyes slightly before he threw the quaffle pass the hoop, easily bypassing the Slytherin Keeper.

Cheers erupted from Ravenclaw’s side of the stands.

“Another splendid shot by Watanabe Shota!” Fukazawa’s voice boomed through the megaphone, scaring even the thunder. “He's sure ready to smash Slytherin today! But can he keep this up with his boyfriend sending so many balls his way?!”

“Fukazawa!” Takizawa, the Headmaster scolded from beside the commentator.

“I meant bludgers.”

Fukazawa always had the best comments, Watanabe mused happily with a self satisfied grin on his face. 

 

The game was coming to an end - Watanabe could see it. The snitch was spotted a couple of seconds ago and now the two Seekers were side to side with their hands stretched out ready to snatch the golden ball.

“Faster,” Watanabe whispered, hoping the Ravenclaw Seeker would get his hands on the snitch first.

From his peripheral, he saw a bludger from afar. To his far left, he carefully observed that Miyadate had just swung his bat.

Throwing the quaffle to one of the other Ravenclaw Chasers, Hokuto, Watanabe prepared himself for the impact of the bludger as his eyes remained trained on the battle between the Seekers.

In the next moment, the bludger collided against the side of his head at the same time he saw a field of blue and bronze erupting into cheers. Ravenclaw won.

That didn't stop Watanabe from falling off his broom and onto the wet patch of the field. He could hear people calling his name and one voice stood out amongst them.

 

“Watanabe!” Miyadate shouted for the thousandth time as soon as he landed and got off his broom, jogging over to where his boyfriend lay on the ground.

“Shota,” Watanabe choked out, clearly in pain, causing several eye rolls from his peers and the other team. His goggles had fell apart from the force of the bludger, allowing raindrops to patter steadily against his face.

“Shota,” Miyadate started calmly as he stroked the older boy’s fringe away from his eyes. “Did you get knocked down by the bludger on purpose because you knew that I would be worried and finally talk to you?”

Under normal circumstances, Watanabe would have scoffed right into Miyadate’s face or spluttered, depending on his mood that day, but now Watanabe was lying on the Quidditch field with probably a few broken ribs, (perhaps even an arm or a leg), and a bloodied nose. So no, he did not have the strength or even the thought of reacting like he would have.

Still, it didn’t stop him from knitting his brows together, giving Miyadate a pained expression not because of the state he was in, but more as if Miyadate’s words had wounded him further.

“I’m not that desperate,” Watanabe spat out roughly, after which he coughed out a mouthful of blood.

Urgently, Miyadate looked around, wondering where the medics were. Where the stretcher was. Evidently, it was not arriving. Not soon enough anyway, prompting Miyadate to take things into his own hands.

Without saying another word and not caring that there were still many people around, he scooped Watanabe into his arms.

With Watanabe’s cheek pressed against Miyadate’s firm chest, he closed his eyes before turning his head slightly, whimpering, so he could muffle what he wanted to say into Miyadate’s Quidditch robes.

“Yes.”

Miyadate didn't have to ask to know that Watanabe was answering his previous question. All he did was pat Watanabe’s wet hair before making a small dash towards shelter, not wanting his injured boyfriend caught in the pouring rain any longer.

 

 

It was nice being in the same school as Miyadate again. That was until Watanabe saw him too much.

Being in the same school was one thing, being in the same company was another. But on top of that, they were in the same group and they were symmetry partners. The distance was too close. Watanabe was sure Miyadate felt the same way after a year. Maybe even before that.

They had been avoiding each other at school. They couldn't at work because they had no choice because the members would sense that something was wrong.

Nozawa, being in the same school as them and having been from the same dance school as them, was tasked to intervene, despite his protests.

Everyone knew it would be easier to get something out of Miyadate, so it was a wonder why Nozawa went to look for Watanabe instead.

 _“Yuki knows what he's doing,” Sanada had reassured the group. Although he didn't sound confident at all. “I hope.”_

He had sounded plenty hopeful though, Nozawa recalled with mild annoyance. Truth to be told, he didn't know why he was reaching out to Watanabe. Really, he didn't have a plan. Watanabe just happened to be there and Miyadate wasn't and Nozawa hadn't intended on cornering the latter on purpose to drill him about his relationship with Watanabe.

“Yuki~” Watanabe greeted cheerily with a huge grin on his face as he walked over and patted his taller friend on the back. “You grew taller!”

“Stop making it sound like we haven't seen each other in ages. We saw each other yesterday,” Nozawa grumbled as Watanabe’s grin grew even larger. He should have gone to look for Miyadate. Less trouble to deal with.

But since he couldn't just walk away now, he would endure this. This wasn't the first time. (Neither would it be the last, he thought dryly as he stared at Watanabe blankly.)

“What’s up with you and Ryota?” Straight to the point. The easiest and fastest way to get things done. Nozawa prided himself in being so efficient.

“I don’t know?” And Watanabe really did sound confused. “I think we've been seeing each other too much? You know, like,” Watanabe paused, making some weird gestures with his hand that Nozawa completely didn't understand. “Too much is bad. Too much is an addiction.”

Nozawa stared at Watanabe. “Ryota...was an addiction?” He knew Watanabe didn't mean it literally but why not annoy the other when you could?

“No, it's not like that,” Watanabe muttered, shocking Nozawa. Okay, maybe Watanabe was really upset and frustrated and Nozawa shouldn't try to push his buttons. “To say it nicely, we've been together for too long. To put it bluntly, we're sick of each other.”

“Shota?”

The voice belonged to Miyadate, causing both Nozawa and Watanabe to turn to face him. Watanabe couldn't tell if he had overheard their conversation but there were no signs that he did. Still, Watanabe couldn't help but feel the pang of guilt as he replayed his own words in his mind.

“I'll leave you two alone. I'll get going,” was all Nozawa offered before slipping away.

A smile was plastered on Watanabe’s face. He hoped it wasn't faltering. “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to ask if you wanna go home together.” Miyadate sounded awkward and foreign. Distant. “Since we have no work today.”

It had been awhile since they last went home together. What if it turned out awkward and weird? What if it ruined their friendship for good? Thoughts muddled Watanabe’s mind but he still agreed anyway.

 

“About what you said…” Miyadate begun when they got off the train at their home station, shocking Watanabe so much that the latter stopped in his tracks.

“I’ve said a lot of things to you in the past fourteen, fifteen years.”

“What you said to Nozawa today,” Miyadate made himself clear and stared at Watanabe who mouthed ‘oh’ before starting to walk again, Miyadate trailing a little behind until Watanabe slowed down and they were walking side by side.

“So you heard?” Watanabe asked and from his peripheral view, he saw Miyadate nodding. “What about it?”

“I wouldn't say I'm sick of you, Shota.” Miyadate sounded rather hurt, causing Watanabe to wince. “Let me rephrase that.” Stopping in his footsteps, Miyadate turned to face Watanabe. “I'm not sick of you, Shota.”

“I'm sorry!” Watanabe immediately said, guilt-ridden. “I didn't mean it! I just couldn't find a better way to put it....” his voice grew softer towards the end.

“Shota,” Miyadate started. “I think we just need to put some distance between us for the time being.”

“Distance?” Watanabe didn't like that suggestion. But he was starting to feel suffocated and that was worse. It might ruin their friendship and everything forever.

“Well?” Miyadate prodded.

“Okay,” Watanabe agreed after taking in and then letting out a deep breath. “Okay,” he repeated as if reassuring himself. “Comfortable distance.”

That sounded like a plan.

 

While the rainfall wasn't exactly heavy, it had been raining the whole day and Watanabe should have had the foresight to bring an umbrella, having been caught in this situation so many times before. Then he saw his saviour in his full glory - Miyadate Ryota equipped with an umbrella.

“Ryota!” Watanabe called out, jogging the short distance over and smiled when he stopped a few centimetres away from Miyadate. 

He pointed to the umbrella and instantly, Miyadate nodded, understanding what Watanabe wanted. But Watanabe showed some hesitance, not bulging from the spot.

“Comfortable distance?” Miyadate asked, amused.

Watanabe laughed. “Not really,” he said as he stepped under the umbrella next to Miyadate.

“Loser gets wet…” Miyadate whispered.

“Losers can’t hold umbrellas properly,” Watanabe casually commented when Miyadate started pulling the umbrella away from the former to shelter his increasingly wet shoulder.

“It's _my_ umbrella,” Miyadate pointed out, unamused, groaning when Watanabe ‘accidentally’ stepped on his foot without even so much as an apology.

There was a twinkle in Watanabe’s eyes when he said “share”.

 

 

“We should have brought a parasol,” Sakuma whined.

When Watanabe didn't reply, Sakuma tugged lightly on his kimono only to be brushed off and shushed as Watanabe brought a finger to his lips.

“Shota, it's going to rain!” Sakuma exclaimed dramatically and gestured to the sky in an even more dramatic manner, as if he were dancing.

“What a pretty pose,” Watanabe cooed as he took Sakuma’s hand into his own and blew a kiss onto it.

“Shota!” Sakuma cried, pulling his hand back. “I'm being serious here!”

Rolling his eyes, Watanabe then affixed Sakuma with a cool stare. He broke out into a sweet smile, the corner of his lips curving upwards cutely. “I'm waiting for someone,” Watanabe said, ignoring the small drizzle that started.

With wide eyes, Sakuma stared at Watanabe, confused. Who could he be waiting for? They weren't allowed out of the _okiya_ often. Unless…

“Miyadate-dono?” Sakuma guessed (wisely for once) as Watanabe nodded quickly and excitedly with a besotted look.

The whack that landed on Watanabe’s shoulder came completely unexpectedly, causing him to let out an undignified yelp. “What was that for?!”

A reprimanding look was sent Watanabe’s way but Sakuma said no further. They both understood the severity of falling in love with someone. Simply speaking, it was not allowed. Absurd in every way.

But it wasn't love, Watanabe was certain of that. Perhaps admiration. Attraction. Watanabe was merely enamoured, that was all. Or that was what he tried to convince himself of. Sakuma did not need to know about that fateful rainy day where Watanabe had been out running an errand when he tore his kimono by accident and was saved by this gentle, gentle looking and absolutely kind man. That man had been Miyadate-dono, the only thing Watanabe knew him about him. The other had actually introduced himself as ‘Miyadate’, but Watanabe wasn’t dumb. Judging by what the other had worn, he was definitely a man of status. And Watanabe knew better than to not add a respectful suffix after his family name.

More importantly, Miyadate had rescued Watanabe from a horrible beating and a terrible scolding that day.

Dirtying a kimono was one thing. A stain could be washed off. But Watanabe had dirtied his kimono and then proceeded to tear it, ruining the lovely piece of silk. He would be caned, definitely. This would be added to his already never ending debt .

And then Miyadate had appeared, saw Watanabe crying near a shop that sold accessories and approached him with the gentlest smile anyone had ever bestowed upon Watanabe.

“Why are you crying?” A very gentle and comforting voice.

“The kimono…” Watanabe wept, gesturing at the tear pathetically. “I ruined it.”

“ _Where's your okiya_?” Miyadate asked softly.

Watanabe had brought Miyadate over to the house, shocking the okaa-san to paleness. It was only then Watanabe had found out that Miyadate was the only son of an important minister.

Right on the spot, Miyadate had sent a few servants away to buy a brand new kimono to compensate the _okiya_ for ruining one of their kimonos, shocking Watanabe this time. But Miyadate had merely shushed Watanabe by patting his thigh softly, not wanting the okaa-san of the house to know it was a lie.

A few days later, Miyadate had visited again, requesting to see Watanabe, announcing to have a gift for him. Watanabe wasn't sure if that had been against protocol but an order was an order. So he had went to greet Miyadate and found a lovely pale blue kimono decorated with white flowers on the table.

“I want to be friends,” Miyadate had said, almost sending the okaa-san into a heart attack. “We're about the same age right?”

“Miyadate-sama, it doesn't work that way!” A servant advised him but he paid the servant no heed, taking Watanabe’s hand instead.

“Let's be friends!” Miyadate exclaimed excitedly, looking into Watanabe’s eyes.

“I'm probably older than you,” Watanabe admitted, feeling his okaa-san’s glare on him as he spoke.

“It's okay.” And Miyadate had genuinely meant it. “I want to give you this,” he said, gesturing to the kimono lying on the table.

“I - ” Watanabe stared speechless at the kimono and then at Miyadate. “It's too exquisite for me.”

This prompted a laughter from Miyadate. “Oh, Shota. You're easily the most exquisite looking thing in the whole hanamachi. The flower of flowers.”

Watanabe had blushed at the compliment and could only accept the gift gratefully under Miyadate’s persistent insistence. After which his okaa-san had given him a good scolding for whatever reason. 

“Shota, it's raining. We'll ruin our kimonos. Let's go back,” Sakuma begged fruitlessly.

It didn't look like Miyadate was going to come so Watanabe slowly nodded his head, reluctant to go back to the _okiya_. But he could feel his kimono getting wet and could see his okaa-san screaming at him in his mind.

But suddenly, the rain stopped hitting him and he noticed that a parasol was now over his head. He also absently noted that someone was standing behind him, probably the owner of the parasol.

“Don't get this kimono ruined too.” A familiar voice spoke, making Watanabe’s heart flutter.

Watanabe craned his neck to look at Miyadate. “ _Danna_ ,” he whispered once he got a clear view of Miyadate, sending blood rushing to the other's face the same time Sakuma yelped _Shota_! Though Sakuma had immediately clasped his hand over his mouth when he saw Abe Ryouhei, the Mayor’s son approaching and then opening a parasol for him.

“As I imagined, blue suits you. And so do flowers,” Miyadate commented casually when he noticed that Watanabe was wearing the kimono he had gifted him previously.

“Miyadate-dono has good eyes!” Watanabe praised sincerely, his eyes sparkling in delight as he blinked at Miyadate. “The flowers are very pretty, thank you.”

“I will give you real flowers the next time we meet,” Miyadate said calmly, now composed, unlike just now when he had been flustered by Watanabe. “Flowers suit you.”

 

 

As always, the office was a mess: people were rushing around, making phone calls, flipping through papers and waiting outside the Manager’s office with piles of files for him to sign. Busy period again, Watanabe mused. But then again, when was an IT company ever free?

Seeing the number of people waiting outside Miyadate’s office, Watanabe felt bad taking up most of the former’s time to discuss a proposal for their two companies to work together. Just a tiny bit though. What was necessary must be done.

Besides, Watanabe couldn't go back to his boss with the same proposal void of a signature like all the previous team leaders his boss had sent.

_I have faith in you, Watanabe. If it's you, I know you can get the job done._

Those had been his boss’ exact words. Although Watanabe also remembered quite clearly that he had told his boss how his hands were quite tight with his own projects and that he wasn't up to the task, even going as far as advising his boss on who would be more suitable. Obviously his boss paid him no mind at all.

Walking over to the secretary’s desk, Watanabe begun, “Excuse me. I have an appointment with your boss.”

“Watanabe-san, am I right?” She asked and he nodded. “He's been expecting you. Please just knock on the door then go right in.”

Watanabe thanked her, nodding slightly before proceeding to do as told. He knocked on the door once before pushing it open.

The size of the office was impressive. It looked spacious enough to fit three elephants. There was a bookshelf and a sofa, with a small glass table situated in front of it. As expected of a first grade IT company.

“Watanabe-san?”

Instantly, Watanabe, having been awed at the size of the room, stopped staring and slapped himself in his mind for being so unprofessional.

“Yes, nice to meet you Miyadate-san,” Watanabe greeted, walking over to where Miyadate was seated before extending a hand which Miyadate accepted.

“Have a seat,” Miyadate said, sounding more authoritative than giving a kind offer, nodding towards the sofa before looking back to his computer screen. “I'm sorry, but please do give me a moment. I'll join you in a while.”

Nodding, even though Miyadate couldn't see it, Watanabe took a seat on one side of the sofa, making sure to keep his posture upright as he crossed his legs and set some files on the table.

“Coffee?” Miyadate asked, standing a few metres away from Watanabe. When did he get out of his chair?

“Yes, please.”

Taking one last look at his proposal, Watanabe deemed it impeccable before setting it down again and accepted the cup of steaming liquid from Miyadate graciously when he finally came over and sat down beside him.

 

When their discussion finally came to its end, Watanabe relaxed, not realising how tense he had been until he rolled his shoulders and a few kinks popped.

“I'm friends with you boss,” Miyadate said out of the blue, almost making Watanabe splutter. “He's always praising one of his team leaders. After meeting everyone so far, I started to wonder who could it be. Until today.”

That raised Watanabe’s ego a couple of notches. He really didn't need any more self-esteem boost. But more was never a bad thing, especially in cases like this.

Making himself comfortable, Miyadate leaned against the backrest of the sofa and stretched out his long legs, still keeping them crossed. “I always thought it'd be nice to have a team leader like you under my supervision.”

Watanabe laughed, the sound melodic. “Are you trying to poach me?”

“Do you feel tempted?”

“I grow on praises.”

“Was that what made you come?”

Watanabe kept quiet and smiled politely.

“I must say your proposal is tempting. Much more so than the rest. It's also truly well-crafted I must admit. But.”

There was always a ‘but’ even though it was obviously unnecessary in some situations. Like this one. How Watanabe hated that word so much.

His proposal was perfect. Miyadate was being an ass.

Said ass smiled at him and spoke in a gentler voice if that was even possible. “I think you know what I want to say.” He shot Watanabe an apologetic look.

“That you can't sign it now and want me to wait a little longer so that you have more time to study it?”

“Not in so much details, but yes. I'm afraid you'll have to explain to your boss why your proposal is lacking a signature.”

“For now.”

With a smile on his face, Miyadate nodded, so slightly that Watanabe might have missed it if wasn't done intentionally for him to see.

“It's getting late. Let's call an end to this meeting,” Miyadate suggested to which Watanabe agreed wholeheartedly. “It's raining. Do you need a ride?”

“I can call a cab.”

“Where do you live?”

For a moment, Watanabe hesitated before giving away the street of his neighbourhood. Miyadate quirked a brow, “that's my neighbourhood. It's more than on the way. Come on, I'll give you a lift.”

Being offered a free ride the second time, Watanabe wasn't dumb to reject it, so he agreed.

The car ride was mostly silent, save for the few gossip about Watanabe’s boss. Miyadate had good taste in music, Watanabe observed. Or they just had similar taste.

Upon reaching the car park, Watanabe took off his seat belt and waited for Miyadate to do the same. But Miyadate was merely staring at him expectantly.

“Aren't you going home?”

“Aren't you?”

“I'm going back to the office. I just realised I have some unfinished work left.”

“Oh.” Watanabe realised very belatedly that Miyadate was flirting with him. He was usually good at this game. Today wasn't one of those days. 

Then without another word, Watanabe got off the car and stared at Miyadate through the wet window until the latter scrolled it down and gave him a warm smile. “Goodnight, Shota.”

 

 

A thunderstorm had been raging outside for the past hour. But with the loud booming bass and blinding lights in the stadium, no one inside cared. The only thing they bothered themselves with was the band on stage, the drummer jamming to the beat professionally, the keyboardist hitting every chord with precision, the guitarist and the bassist leaning back to back as they strummed their respective instruments with skill, and of course, their vocalist singing ever so passionately, sending the crowd wild.

Alone in the crowd, Miyadate felt awkward, not knowing how to dance or get into the mood like the other audiences. He wondered if there were anyone else like him. Probably not, he concluded as he looked around and found everybody attuning themselves to the atmosphere of the concert.

While Miyadate liked this band - Snow - he wasn’t exactly an avid fan. He listened to their music, watched their videos and bought their CDs, but he never really made an effort to go to any of their live shows before. This, right now, was pure coincidence. Luckily for him, he had won a lucky draw, obtaining a pair of tickets after buying the band’s newest CD. He had sold the other ticket easily, choosing to keep one for himself. Because, why not?

Why not? Because the place was too noisy despite how much Miyadate liked the band’s music. The people were too pushy. Literally. Miyadate groaned when someone punched his shoulder from behind for the nth time in the span of an hour.

It wasn’t like he found the whole experience a dread or a bore so far. His idols looked good in 2D. They looked even better in 3D. Although Miyadate didn’t have a very spectacular seat, he could still see the band quite clearly, his view unobstructed given his height. And as expected, their songs were as good live as they were studio recorded. Miyadate was enjoying himself to a certain extent.

“I’m going to ask someone up to sing the next one with me.” It was the vocalist, Watanabe Shota speaking and the crowed roared with uncontained excitement, hoping to be the chosen one.

A staff member had pushed out a cart carrying a box on it and Watanabe approached the object, thanking the staff with a quick nod before diverting his attention back to the audience. “Your seat numbers are all here.” People cheered. “I hope it won’t be someone better looking than me,” Watanabe joked, a cute smile surfacing as laughter and calls erupted from the crowd.

Even Miyadate found himself scoffing, finding the vocalist ridiculous. The vocalist was absolutely gorgeous.

“And the lucky person is…drumroll please!” Watanabe had the manner of a host and it was entertaining to watch. “Level 1. M20! Please come up!”

That seat number sounded familiar to Miyadate. He felt a push at his shoulder and a ‘congrats’ said to his face the next second. And a _I wish you sold me that ticket instead_. Suddenly, Miyadate was exceptionally grateful for turning up and enduring the past hour of whatever he didn’t deem enjoyable and simply up and left his seat.

The shock on Watanabe’s face was evident but it faded as soon as it appeared when Miyadate stepped onto stage. He was obviously expecting a female. But Miyadate seemed to have caught a sign of recognition in Watanabe’s eyes. Though how could that be possible? Maybe he was dreaming.

“It’s a love song,” Watanabe announced and the audience cooed. “I hope you know this one.” This was directed to Miyadate. He nodded. “It’s one of our few ballads.” A few ‘aw’s sounded.

And then the stage lights dimmed, save for two spotlights on Watanabe and Miyadate. Slowly, Watanabe paced over with the grace of a model and handed Miyadate a microphone, which the latter accepted, delighted.

Miyadate expected the music to start so he wasn’t prepared for what came next - Watanabe grabbed his hand and leaned in close. The crowed hyped up and Miyadate could hear high-pitched fangirl screams. Another thing he noticed was how Watanabe was shivering slightly.

“I’m a little nervous,” Watanabe whispered into Miyadate’s ears. His breath tickled the edge of Miyadate’s ears when he let out a shaky but soundless laugh. “So hold me tighter.”

The whole thing went by in an exhilarating blur and so did the rest of the concert. 

By the end of the night, Miyadate could still feel Watanabe’s lips ghosting over his ear. He could still feel Watanabe’s nervousness seeping through their connected hands.

It felt bizarre.

 

The next day, Miyadate was back in a small but cozy bar he frequented to relax and play his guitar.

“I composed the next piece myself.” A few claps from the audience and Miyadate nodded appreciatively. “It’s about a guy I admire.” There were a few wolf-whistles but Miyadate didn’t bother.

He closed his eyes and felt the guitar strings beneath his fingertips as he strummed the first few chords. He saw Watanabe’s dazzling smile.

 

“Hey.”

It was a voice he would recognise anywhere and he spun around, dazed after his performance, a couple of drinks and the unlikeliness to be caught in such a situation.

Watanabe was dressed in black - a plain black shirt which was covered mostly by a black leather jacket with some red at the shoulder pads and collar, clad in a pair of tight skinny jeans that was ripped fashionably, showing patches of his skin. Miyadate didn’t have to look further down to know that his boots were black too. All in all, it was a sight Miyadate appreciated very much. Then again, it was hard for a fan not to appreciate whatever his idol wore, especially if his idol had a face like Watanabe’s.

“Hi,” Miyadate answered, sounding breathless.

A smile crept onto Watanabe’s face as he took Miyadate’s hand and dragged the latter towards the bar. And Miyadate couldn’t help but squeeze their hands together as he thought back to Watanabe’s words.

_Hold me tighter._

 

 

This was perfect, Watanabe thought, elated, as he sent a snapchat of his housemate sleeping in only his boxers, tangled up in sheets to everyone on his contact list, with a simple caption of _my housemate is hot_. Oh and the picture included the victim’s Tigger plushie sleeping by his side as well.

Adorable.

But Watanabe was also running late for class, having spent most of his morning staring at his housemate and texting Fukazawa and Sakuma and reading his notes before deciding to send that snapchat to almost the whole university. Yes, Watanabe Shota had that many friends. Also yes, he did everything in his housemate’s room even though he had his own.

Technically, the whole house was his so he didn't see a problem going into his tenant's room. Watanabe Shota had no concept of personal space except his own.

Besides, Watanabe was the one who kept the house clean. He ought to have privileges like having free access to every corner of the house. Even his tenant's room, yes, since he cleaned it as well.

Most importantly, this wasn't any tenant. It was his childhood friend of twenty years.

Just as Watanabe was about to leave the room, his housemate stirred and Watanabe decided to linger around a little longer.

“What time is it?” His roommate asked, voice sounding hoarse and dry.

“Time for you to be a star!” Watanabe exclaimed in delight before leaving the room and then the house, not caring how mind-screwed his housemate probably was now.

 

Upon reaching the campus, a swarm of people rushed over to Watanabe. That was when he decided to check his phone which was exploding with notifications. Should have checked it before stepping foot here. Watanabe was regretting not doing so.

Quickly, he shushed everyone, even going to the extent of tearing just to be left alone because he was going to be late. It wasn't all a lie; he was really going to be late.

Except that it didn't matter because he slipped into the classroom from the back and quietly slid into his seat when the teacher's back was faced towards the class. Like always.

Then it was messaging time. He skipped the messages from random people whom he didn't even know (how did they even get his number?) and went straight to his group chat with Fukazawa and Sakuma.

_OMG are you sleeping with him?! The new business student?!_

_He has quite a nice body?! Don't tell Hikaru I said that…_

_Hey the bed sheets are quite nice._

_I want that Tigger!_

It was honestly all he saw, ignoring the hundred other messages and decided to text them with a simple, _It's nothing. I just took a photo._

His phone was still exploding but he didn't really care, choosing to pocket his phone and concentrate on the lecture instead. He'd find his childhood friend later and explain if the other didn't find him first.

Watanabe hoped they wouldn’t meet.

 

“Watanabe Shota.”

Oh no.

Faking his best apologetic face, Watanabe spun around and started going “Oh! No, no, no. I'm soooo very sorry. I can't believe it reached you sooo quickly,” making sure to drag the appropriate words and enunciate every word clearly.

“Other than the fact that I'm on your contact list, yes it did reach me quickly.”

“Ryota,” Watanabe laughed. “You are hilarious!”

Miyadate glared. “Shota, I know we've known each other since forever but you can't take liberties like that.”

“But no one knows that!” Watanabe protested. “And it's fun.”

“Shota - ”

“Ryota, let's talk about this at home,” Watanabe interrupted smoothly. “Besides now the whole school knows that you have a nice body and.”

“And what?” Miyadate asked although he was certain he wouldn't like the answer.

“And a Tigger plushie!”

Before Miyadate could scold him, Watanabe interjected. “Got an umbrella? It's gonna rain.” Pointing at the window, Miyadate followed Watanabe’s finger and spotted dark clouds in the sky. He nodded.

At the same time Miyadate said _not sharing_ , Watanabe had insistently said _share_.

“Why not!” Watanabe asked, indignant, tears welling in his eyes.

“Fine, fine,” Miyadate hurriedly said, not wanting Watanabe to burst into tears because the other would. “Why must you be such a drama queen,” Miyadate sighed as they walked into the open space with Watanabe trailing slightly behind him.

“King,” Watanabe said casually before skipping in step next to Miyadate.

“Wha -”

“Anyway, I'm a theatre major,” Watanabe reminded Miyadate helpfully.

“The only one like that too. Thank goodness. Imagine if all the other students were like you.” Then Miyadate opened his umbrella and Watanabe moved closer to fit under it completely.

“Whatever you say,” Watanabe drawled mockingly before pressing closer to Miyadate’s side, not wanting the rain to touch his jacket’s sleeve.

 

The walk back to their house took longer than expected due to Watanabe’s various attempts to glue himself to Miyadate.

“Then I'll be going,” Miyadate announced when he didn't enter the lobby with Watanabe, prompting a confused look from the other. “I still have classes,” he elaborated.

“Oh.” Watanabe actually sounded genuinely surprised for once. “You - ”

“Walked you back?” Miyadate completed his sentence. Watanabe shut his mouth and nodded. “Yeah, you didn't have an umbrella,” Miyadate explained casually with a shrug.

“You're not late or anything right?” Worry laced Watanabe’s voice. “It wasn't inconvenient right?”

“Since when did you become so caring?” Miyadate joked, sounding more amused than ever.

“Because I'm starting to feel really guilty about that snapchat,” Watanabe admitted, pouting at Miyadate helplessly.

Chuckling, Miyadate left his umbrella against a wall before pacing over to Watanabe and ruffled his hair. “I'm not angry, Shota. You should know that.”

“I know. But - ” Watanabe huffed, finding himself at a loss for words, an extremely rare occurrence.

“Don't be silly.” Miyadate hesitated before pressing a short and quick kiss to the top of Watanabe’s head. “I'll see you later.”

“See you…” Watanabe mumbled after Miyadate had long walked away, as Watanabe watched him gradually disappear in the rain.

 

 

“Shota?”

Watanabe started stirring awake to the soft sound of his name being called.

“Shota, wake up. We're going home.”

Kabuki was just around the corner and with the new additions and various changes to the show, rehearsals were taking a toll on them. Signs of fatigue, while always present, were starting to become prominent in all of their faces.

For SnowMan, however, they had Crea rehearsals as well since their shows started one day after Kabuki ended, leaving them not much time to practice then. It was undoubtedly tiring but it was also their job.

All Watanabe remembered was that he had fallen asleep during a short break towards the end of rehearsals. By the time he was woken up, the room was empty so he came to the conclusion that Miyadate had kept people from disturbing him and probably asked Takizawa to let him rest. At the thought of that, Watanabe’s heart felt full.

No words were exchanged between them as they left the building and started their journey home. Watanabe kept on glancing to his side to see if Miyadate had any signs of wanting to say anything. There was none. So they continued walking in silence.

It felt awkward - but not in the way new friendships or couples were formed. It was more like an old friendship and relationship having too much to say and they didn't know where to begin.

The train ride remained silent as well but Watanabe started to relax, soaking in the comfortable silence. Only then did he realise that Miyadate didn't look bothered by the lack of conversation at all and figured that he shouldn't worry so much.

 

When they walked out of the station, a light drizzle had begun.

“I don't have an umbrella.” It was the first thing Miyadate said all night after waking Watanabe up.

“It's fine,” Watanabe replied, finding that his voice was dry. “I have this,” he said as he pulled out a grey jacket from his bag and pointed at the dangling hoodie.

Miyadate gave a brief nod and took out his own jacket and wore it.

They stared at each other for a moment and Watanabe was the first to break eye contact, pulling the hood over his head and walking into the drizzle. Miyadate followed without saying anything and closed the distance between them so they were walking side by side.

After turning a corner, Watanabe noticed something. There was a row of low bricks not far away and upon seeing that, Watanabe broke away from Miyadate’s side, jogging over to the low stone wall. Placing one foot atop the first brick, Miyadate called out, “Careful now. Don't fall.”

Slowly, a small smile crept onto Watanabe’s face as he steadied himself, giving Miyadate enough time to stroll over to his side.

“You used to be so mindful of the rain,” Miyadate started when they were walking again; Watanabe balancing on the low wall and Miyadate on the pavement.

A hearty chuckle came from Watanabe. “It isn't really raining right?”

It was merely drizzling. “Point taken.”

“Besides, I have this.” Miyadate knew what Watanabe was referring to but he still looked at the latter, in time to see him pulling at the edges of his grey hoodie covering his head.

Subconsciously, Miyadate tugged on the edges of his own hoodie, bringing it down further to cover more of his face.

 

“Shota?” Miyadate stopped in his tracks and turned around when he realised that the other wasn't walking anymore. He saw Watanabe standing at the edge of the low brick wall looking confused. Lost. “You can just take one more step, you know.”

Instead of doing as Miyadate suggested, Watanabe back-tracked a bit, causing a frown to mar Miyadate’s features. Seeing that Watanabe wasn't going to get off the low brick wall any time soon, Miyadate walked over to where he was, standing beside him on the ground again.

“What's wrong?” Miyadate asked the same time Watanabe said “I'm sorry,” worrying Miyadate.

“Shota, what's wrong?”

“Everything's so uncertain. I don't know what will become of Snowman, of us, in the future.”

“Why did you apologise?”

Watanabe left his mouth slightly agape, not knowing what to say. He hadn't even realised he had apologised. That he had been blaming himself for something he had absolutely no control over.

“It's not your fault,” Miyadate assured him as if reading his mind and then lacing their fingers together to press a gentle kiss to Watanabe’s knuckles. “Let's go?” He said and then unwrapped their fingers and walked in front.

The sound of footsteps told Miyadate that Watanabe had followed suit but the sounds stopped quickly afterwards.

Turning back and looking at Watanabe, Miyadate found the other staring back at him with slightly glassy eyes as he bit his lower lip. Then Miyadate stretched out his hand and silently, Watanabe took it. Gently, Miyadate pulled forward as Watanabe tightened his grip and jumped off the low brick wall, stumbling a little when his foot touched the ground. But Miyadate already had his hand at the small of Watanabe’s back to help him keep his balance.

“Can I kiss you?” Watanabe asked softly.

“Do you have to ask?”

“I don't want us to get Friday-ed and ruin Snowman.”

Watanabe actually sounded serious and Miyadate scoffed. “We're not important enough.”

It was convincing but Watanabe didn't budge. So Miyadate decided to be the one to initiate the kiss. And he leaned forward the same time he pressed Watanabe closer to him and sealed their lips in one simple kiss, then broke apart.

“We'll be important one day,” Miyadate whispered. “Let's go home now?” He suggested when the rain started to grow a little bit heavier. “My house? It's been a while.”

Before Watanabe replied, Miyadate was already holding the other’s hand. Watanabe agreed anyway.

“I love you. No matter what,” Miyadate said suddenly, squeezing Watanabe’s hand.

“Me too,” Watanabe admitted sincerely after a heartbeat.

_And I'll love you in every life._


End file.
